The Mission Gone Wrong
by KatZen
Summary: Jeff has been given a mission to complete. Not a difficult one. A relatively safe mission. But it all goes wrong... Chapter 13 uploaded
1. Telephones and Trouble

**Disclaimer: None of the characters in Thunderbirds belongs to me. They are the property of Gerry Anderson and his affiliates. The unrecognized characters do belong to me, though.**

**AN: Inspired by watching Apollo 13 in science. This is set pre-Thunderbirds, but you might recognize some characters. It made sense to use them, instead of making new ones up.**

**Before I forget, this is movieverse, with the exception of Josie Tracy. The ages of the boys are as follows**

**Scott- 16 years old**

**John- 15 years old**

**Virgil- 13 years old**

**Gordon- 11 years old**

**Alan- 6 years old **

**Hope you enjoy. :)**

Chapter One- Telephones and Trouble

Jeff Tracy pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed wearily. He rubbed a hand down his face in frustration. The calculations couldn't be right. They just couldn't.

Tracy Aeronautics, Jeff's newly found business, was in trouble. Financial trouble. The business hadn't sold as many goods and services as Jeff would have liked and the bank bills and loans were piling up. He and his business were officially in the red.

Jeff's stormy grey eyes swivelled across his desk, and fell on an unopened envelope. 'Great,' he thought sarcastically. 'A tax bill. Just what I need right now.'

Ignoring the tax letter, Jeff flipped the pages of his accounting book back to the beginning, and picked up his calculator, laboriously inserting the right numbers.

The phone rang, distracting him. Again sighing wearily, Jeff placed his calculator down, and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

There was a pause.

"I see."

And there was another pause.

"I understand."

There was a long gap, where Jeff picked up his pen and began writing important notes onto his pad.

"Yes sir. I'll be there tomorrow."

Excitedly, he put the phone back in the cradle. Hurriedly, he ran down the stairs, out of the office and into his car.

'Stuff the paperwork. This is much more exciting.'

* * *

"Homework; create a minimum of a eight thousand five hundred word report on one group of astronauts that have flown into space in the past century." Mr. Clarkson, Scott's physics teacher called over the ruckus of a teen filled classroom. "Include at least three pictures and _make sure you cite your sources._ It's due in two months from today by nine am. Late entries will be an automatic fail. This will be recorded on your report, so make it good." Clarkson picked up his pile of marking. "Class dismissed."

As soon as Mr. Clarkson was out of earshot, one of Scott's friends, Tom, let out a groan, as the group of friends walked down the crowded corridor. "Can you believe he's making us do that stupid assignment?!"

"I know!" Scott agreed, as they headed towards their locker. "That's gonna take all night!"

"What are you complaining about?" Tom asked incredulously. "This must be the easiest assignment for you to complete. You just have to write about your dad and his exploration days."

"I'm not doing my dad!" Scott cried out in outrage, as he fiddled with the combination lock. "Anyway, that would just look suss."

"No," Jack, Scott's other friend corrected, as he leaned casually against the locker, and flicked brown hair out of his eyes. "It would be smart."

"I am not writing about my father." Scott stated adamantly, slamming the locker door shut, emphasizing his point. "Case closed."

* * *

"Mother, I'm home!" Jeff called out.

"Jeff, honey, is everything alright?" Josie called out. "You're not meant to be back for another few hours."

"Everything's fine, Mother," Jeff reassured her by pecking her cheek gently. "If anything, it's better than fine."

Josie narrowed her eyes in suspicion. When Jeff had left earlier in the day, he was grumpy and frustrated. Now he was light hearted and happy. She eyed him up and down, and sniffed the air. "Jefferson Grant Tracy! You know I don't approve of you drinking! You may be nearly forty years old, but you are not old enough for me to not spank you with a wooden spoon! You'd better have a good explanation for this!"

"Mother, it was one celebratory drink." Jeff explained.

"Probably a massive shot of whiskey." Josie sniped.

"Mother, please, just let me finish." Jeff waited for Josie to nod in approval. "You know the prospectus space mission onboard Orbita 13?"

"How could I not! That mission is over hyped. Why, I can't even walk down a street without someone talking about it!"

Jeff smiled. "NASA called. They want me to command Orbita 13."

* * *

Scott poured over a thick encyclopaedia at the school library, during his free period. "This is impossible. There are so many space missions to choose from!"

"Just ask your dad, for crying out loud." Jack muttered quietly, but not quietly enough to escape the scandalized looks that came his way.

"We've been through this before! No friggin' way am I asking dad. Hell would freeze over, thaw out, freeze over, defrost and freeze again before I go to him."

"Swallow your pride, Scott," Tom drawled over from a computer. "We all know that's the only thing that's stopping you from asking is pride."

Scott shut the book violently, looked at the clock mounted on the wall, and threw the book into his bag. "Dammit! I nearly forgot! I've gotta go pick the brats up. I'll see you tomorrow."

"What about Virgil and John?" Jack asked, lounging in his chair.

"John has track today."

"Virgil?"

Scott snickered. "Brats included him."

* * *

Scott pushed open the door to home, only to see his father filling the frame.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Alan cried out ecstatically, blue eyes wide in excitement, as he ran towards his father, with his arms outstretched. "You're home!"

"That I am, son. That I am." Jeff swung Alan onto his shoulder, blowing a raspberry on Alan's belly, making his son giggle. He looked to his other sons. "You're home late. How was school?"

"Scotty forgot about us." Gordon pouted at his father, and then glared bloody murder at his eldest brother.

"Yeah!" Virgil agreed. "He left us standing in the rain and mud!"

"So, Mr. Perfect isn't perfect at all!" John sidled up to Jeff, and slapped his hands to his head. "The universe is ending! What are we going to do?!"

Scott narrowed his eyes so that his eyebrows knitted together. "Don't start, John." He growled. "I've had a bad enough day as it is. Why aren't you at track?"

"Ah, Mr. Perfect isn't a genius either." John teased. "It's raining. Track was cancelled."

Scott's eyebrows drew closer together. "That jibe," he turned to face John. "Was uncalled for."

"Boys," Jeff raised his voice, stopping the incipient fight. "I have something to tell you."

**AN: I'm still working on my other story. This just popped into my mind, and wouldn't stop bugging me until I wrote it. Please review.**


	2. Teen Tantrums

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**AN: Hope you enjoy the next update. As of 16/11/08, I have slightly changed the chapter. It hasn't changed that much, I just extended Jeff's speech.**

Chapter Two- Teen Tantrums

Jeff led his sons to the dining room table, and sat down at the head chair. He placed his hands on the table, feeling the solid oak under his hands. "I'm going back to the moon."

There was silence, as his sons blinked at him.

"Dad, April Fools Day was a couple of months ago. Nice try, though."

"Gordon, I'm not yanking your chain. I really am going to the moon." Jeff smiled, as the news sank into his sons.

"But you're too old!" John blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Hey, less of the cheek, John. Besides, thirty nine isn't that old." Jeff said.

"Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that." Virgil quipped, causing ripples of laughter to ring around the table. Even Jeff laughed.

"Daddy, Daddy, can I come with you?" Alan looked imploringly at Jeff. "I promise I'll be real good. You won't even know I'm there. Please Daddy!"

"No, sorry son. You're a bit young right now. Maybe in a couple of years when you're older."

"Promise?" Alan asked crestfallen, his gentle blond curls falling into his eyes as he blinked back tears.

"Promise." Jeff reassured his irresistibly cute six year old son. "Now, go wash your hands before snack time."

Oak chairs scraped against the timber floor, and Jeff could hear the regular I'm-getting-to-the-bathroom-first-and-you'll-have-to-wait-because-I'll-take-forever scramble.

Josie entered the room, and set a big bowl of homemade cookies and cake on the table. "They seem excited. I'm guessing you told them."

"They are. Virgil and John managed to crack a few jokes, but I think they're OK with it. Alan is so excited. He actually wanted to come up with me." Jeff chuckled. "Gordon thinks I'm losing my memory; says I don't know when April Fools is."

"What about Scott?"

"He was a bit quiet, but then again, he's never really shown much emotion, has he?"

"He takes after his father. Not something I approve of, in this case." Josie sniffed, as she put the plates on the table. "Go get the boys. I'm sure they're simply starving."

Jeff moved to the foot of the stairs. "Boys,' he hollered. "Cookies and cake are on the table!"

Jeff was flattened against the wall as his herd of animals, also known as his sons, trampled down the stairs. When he returned, all the boys were waiting for him. Virgil even had his hand poised over the largest, most chocolate chip filled cookie.

"Uh-uh." Josie wagged a finger. "You know what you have to do before you start eating.

Simultaneously, the boys' head dropped.

"Go for it Gordon." Virgil muttered.

"OK, here's the grace that took me a while to think of. I hope you like it." He paused, for dramatic effect. "Good grub, good meat, good God, lets eat."

There was the regular scramble for the cakes and cookies, along with the regular snack time accusations and fights.

"It's MY cookie, Gordon!" Virgil cried out, sounding like a three year old, instead of thirteen. "I saw it first!"

"Nuh-uh!" Gordon shot back. "You've already had three. Greedyguts!"

"Hey, I am a growing boy. I need this to fuel my lean, mean, musical machine!" Virgil yanked the cookie toward him.

"Exactly. Growing fatter and fatter." Gordon parried back without hesitation. "Whereas I'm matchstick thin. I NEED the cookie."

John leaned towards Alan. "Since when do fish need chocolate to survive? Anyway, there's a whole batch of cookies in the cupboard and on the table. I think they're too stupid to realise that. Oh well." John stretched his arm out and split the plate between him and Alan.

Alan giggled and crammed a cookie into his mouth, and Virgil used John's point to his advantage.

"Yeah Leroy, tadpoles don't need cookies to survive."

Gordon snarled, and pulled the cookie back towards him, breaking it in half.

"Well done, genius." Virgil snapped acidly.

Gordon narrowed his eyes, as he chewed on his bite of his half of his cookie. "Don't," he began with his mouth full, spraying Virgil with crumbs. "Call me Leroy, Gus. My name is Gordon."

"Don't call me Gus, Leroy."

Jeff knew better than to intervene. He just had to ride out the verbal slinging match, and make sure it remained a verbal slinging match and didn't develop into a flinging food frenzy

Josie looked over at her eldest grandson. "Scott, sweetie, are you feeling alright?"

"Huh?" Scott looked up from the cupcake he had been fiddling with.

"Are you OK? You've barley touched anything."

"No, I'm fine. I'm just not that hungry."

The room stilled, and Virgil's jaw dropped, revealing cookie mash. Scott was always hungry. He would eat anything, and frequently did. Scott's constant appetite was the source of many family jokes.

Concerned that Scott had caught a bug, Josie moved towards him and felt his forehead. "You look a bit peaky."

Irritated, Scott batted his grandmother's hand away. "I said I was fine! I'm just not hungry!"

He pushed his chair away from the table, and stormed out of the room.

Josie rolled her eyes. Teenagers!

"I'll talk to him later." Jeff promised his mother.

* * *

Jeff knocked on Scott and John's closed bedroom door, knowing that only Scott was in there, since John was relaxing downstairs.

"Scott, can I come in?" Jeff asked. He had promised himself that he would respect his boys' privacy, and always knocked before entering their rooms. The only exception to this rule was for the bedtime tuck-in every night.

Jeff took Scott's response, which was silence, as a yes. He entered the room, and felt a surge of pride as he looked at his eldest slaving away over his homework. He frowned when he saw headphones stuffed into his ears. How could his son concentrate while listening to music? Jeff would never understand, since he needed complete silence to focus.

"Scott, put the pen down. I just want to have a little chat. It won't take more than ten minutes."

Scott swivelled round in his chair, shot an appraising look at his father, and swivelled back to his Physics assignment.

Jeff felt a pit of anger bubble in his stomach. "Scott! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

With an exaggerated sigh, Scott placed his pen down, and turned to face Jeff.

"Take those headphones out of your ears!" Jeff ordered.

Reluctantly, Scott pulled out each ear bud, and stared straight at Jeff.

"Thank you."

"What do you want?" Scott was careful to not sound rude, but imply that he didn't want to socialise.

"I want to ask you if everything was alright."

"Oh yeah. Everything's fine." Scott groused sarcastically.

"Yes. I can see that. Now, tell me what's wrong."

Scott could feel his own anger bubble and boil. Gritting his teeth, he answered his dad. "Nothing is wrong."

"School problems? Fight with one of your many brothers or friends?" Jeff grimaced at the next one. "Girl trouble?"

"Like I'd tell you if I had any girl trouble. From what Grandma told me, you were pretty hapless with the girls when you were my age." Scott threw his father a red herring, and Jeff fell for it, hook, line and sinker.

"So it is a girl. Does she not like you? Did she -"

"It's not a girl, for crying out loud!" Scott interrupted. "This is something I have to deal with on my own. Now, if you don't mind, I have a mountain of homework I have to get back to."

"Actually, I do mind." Jeff leant over Scott, and held his books ransom. "You're not working until you tell me what your problem is."

"Fine. You'll be sitting here a while, then."

Jeff sighed. Scott was so stubborn and obstinate at times. He had obviously inherited that trait from Jeff.

"Has it got something to do with me going to the moon?" Jeff hazarded a guess.

Scott didn't answer, which was an answer in itself.

"It is. What's worrying you?"

Again, Scott didn't answer. He just held out his hand for his books.

"Talk to me Scott. Don't clam up on me."

Scott unclenched his jaw. "You want to know what's bugging me. Read this." Scott ripped the books away from Jeff, rifled through the pages, and then presented them to Jeff.

"Scott, none of this will happen on board Orbita 13. It's the safest space shuttle of the day."

"That's what they said about Apollo 13 and Apollo 1. Look at what happened to them." Scott jumped out of his chair and paced feverishly up and down the room.

"Scott," Jeff sat his son down. "None of that will happen. You have to trust me on this."

"I don't. You can't promise me you'll come back alive."

Jeff swallowed. "You're right; I can't. But I can tell you this. In three months, I will be commanding Orbita 13. You have to get used to that idea. You can like it or lump it; I will be on Orbita 13 as she launches into space. OK? I will be on Orbita 13 as she lands on the moon. I will be on Orbita 13 to carry out the mission I've been given. I will be on Orbita 13. Period."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Now are we done? Can I have my books back?"

Jeff handed them over wordlessly, before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

"How is he?"

Jeff jumped, and saw his mother standing behind him.

"He's not sick, is he?"

Jeff shook his head. "He's not taking my space trip news so good. I think it has something to with his Physics assignment. He's so… focused, for want of a better word, on what could go wrong."

Josie bit her lip. "I can understand where he's coming from. He just needs to be reassured by his daddy."

Jeff stared at his mother.

"Under that sixteen year old physique, there's a little boy in there who thinks the world of his father, and can't even begin to imagine his life without you there for guidance."

Jeff raked a hand through his mane of hair. "I don't know what changed. Scott used to be fine with me going on space missions."

Josie smiled sadly. "I think Scott's realised the reality of how dangerous an astronaut's job is. Give him time. I'm sure he'll come around."

**AN: Please review.**


	3. Meet the Team

**Disclaimer: see chapter one.**

**AN: Thanks for the great reviews.**

Chapter Three- Meet the Team

"Gentlemen, there has been much speculation surrounding this mission." The commander of the project, Gene, boomed out to Jeff and his two pilots. "This is a meeting to clarify this mission, and for us to answer any questions you have."

The three astronauts nodded their understanding.

"The aim for this mission is simple. You are to land on the moon, and bring back particle samples. You are also there to observe for any new identifying marks on the moon, such as craters or mounts. No more, no less. Provided that everything goes to plan, it will take four days to reach the moon, and four days return. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir!" Three voices recited back.

"Good." Gene smiled. "In the evening, there will be a press conference, introducing the team of Orbita 13 to the rest of the world. Now, I'll take you to see your home for the duration of the mission." He led them through several winding corridors, until they reached the assembly line. "These are the components that will make your LLC, Lunar Landing Capsule. They are made from the toughest, strongest materials known to withstand friction and G-Forces."

Jeff nodded approvingly. Technology had improved tremendously since his last trip in space, which was a promising and reassuring sign.

"And over here," Gene pointed to the left. "Is the rockets that will boost you up into space."

Jeff looked up at the sleek, white booster towering over him.

Gene clapped Jeff on the shoulder. "She's a beauty, isn't she, Jeff?"

"Yes." Jeff agreed, awestruck by the sheer size and power of the booster. "She is."

* * *

Scott stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen, ignoring the pounding music coming from Virgil's room, and the squabble between Gordon and Alan.

"Hi sweetie." Josie looked up from the kitchen counter. "You're back early."

Scott shrugged, leaned into the fridge and poured himself a glass of milk. "Dad's gone, hasn't he? I haven't seen him around today."

Josie nodded. "He left at the crack of dawn. His training started today."

Scott placed his glass down on the table. "So he's going. He's really going."

"Oh sweetie," Josie moved over to Scott, and hugged him tight. "I know you don't approve of this."

"It's not that I don't approve. I just don't think he's thought this through. He's leaving at the worst possible time."

"Explain, Scott. I don't quite understand."

"We're up to our eyeballs in debt-"

Josie's jaw dropped. How did Scott know that? Jeff's financial situation was Jeff's business.

"I'm not an idiot. I can add. We're borrowing more than we can pay back." Scott pierced Josie with laser beam eyes. "Anyway, Dad's been ignoring Alan ever since the avalanche, but now, it's different. They've bonded. And didn't Dad leave NASA to spend more time with us?"

"Your father didn't exactly leave NASA." Josie explained. "When he agreed to work with them many years ago, part of his contract stated that he could be called up for any mission, if he qualified for it, regardless of whether he works for them."

"Doesn't change anything. He's gone for three months. The bills will keep rolling in and we'll struggle even more. There's one more thing; what happens if Orbita 13 goes wrong? What'll happen to us?"

"Sweetie, you can't think like that." Josie gently admonished. "And if the worst does happen, you've always got your old Grandma, haven't you? You're so intent on thinking about the worst case scenario. I want you to consider the best case scenario."

"Now?"

"Now."

Scott took a sip of his milk. "The Orbita 13 launches into space, orbits the moon, lands on the moon, launches back into space and has a safe splashdown."

"And after that," Josie continued. "You're father will earn plenty of money from the publicity he'll receive, and the debt will practically disappear."

Scott tilted his head to the left and smiled. "I never thought about that." He gave the elderly lady a quick kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, Grandma."

"Anytime, sweetie, anytime."

* * *

"Jeff, long time, no see. How's it going?" Ben, one of Jeff's oldest friend, colleague, and fellow astronaut, said.

"Ben! Good to see you again. It's been five years, hasn't it?"

"Five long years." A voice behind Ben drawled out.

Jeff peered round Ben, only to see another old friend and astronaut. "Jack! You haven't changed much, have you?"

Jack shook his head. "Not a bit."

"Can you believe they've asked us three to go up?" Ben cried out ecstatically. "Us three! Of all the possible astronaut combinations, it was us!"

"Well," Jeff reasoned, grinning. "It makes sense from their point of view. We've all gone up into space together. We know each others strengths and weaknesses. We get along really well. What more could you want?"

Jack laughed. "Always the logical one, aren't you? So, how're the boys?"

"They're fine. All growing up."

"Got a photo for us to see?"

Jeff nodded, and pulled out his wallet. "The one on the right's Scott. Next to him is John and then Virgil's next to John. Gordon and Alan are the ones clinging onto Scott and John."

Jack did a double take. "They've changed since I last saw them. Scott's grown."

"Yeah. He's six foot two, towers over me, and he knows it. He keeps telling me, he's not a child; he's taller than me." Jeff grumbled. "John's headed that way too. Luckily for me, I think Virgil's destined to be slightly shorter and more stockier than his brothers. I think he takes after his maternal Grandad in that respect."

"What about Gordon and Alan?" Ben asked.

"Gordon breathes, thinks and lives in water, and completely uninterested in space and flying. How I managed to get a son like that is beyond me, but that's Gordon for you. I reckon Olympic swimming is just around the corner for him."

"Still playing pranks?"

"God yes!" Jeff moaned. "I'll have to check my case, just to make sure he didn't slip something inside. He's a nightmare, that one. But a pleasant nightmare. And Alan is obsessed with speed. Fast cars, fast planes, fast boats, he doesn't care. As long as it goes faster than a hundred miles an hour, he's as happy as a pig in the mud."

Both Ben and Jack laughed, while Jeff looked at his watch.

"Gentlemen, I think it's time we left to get ready for the press conference."

* * *

"Boys," Josie called, as she turned on the TV. "Come down here please. The news is coming."

Alan, Gordon and Virgil all groaned and shuddered theatrically. John placed his book down on the floor and gave the TV his undivided attention. Scott leaned casually in the doorway, his eyes glued to the screen.

Watching at least one news broadcast every day was a rule in the Tracy household. Jeff felt it would help his sons keep up with current affairs and factors that affected the rest of the world. Josie agreed with his rule wholeheartedly, and loved enforcing it whenever she could.

"Welcome to News Nightly at Eight with Bill Bailey. Tonight's stories; air baggage handles have gone on strike, demanding a pay rise. Oil prices are set to rise, due to slow down in production.

But first, NASA officially announces the astronauts flying on Orbita 13. We cross over to our live link at Cape Canaveral for the official press conference."

The image on the TV changed, revealing a royal blue background, with the NASA and Orbita emblems centred on the screen. Several flashing light-bulbs could be seen, as well as furry microphones and silhouettes of jostling journalists, along with the babble or reporters shouting out their questions, hoping to be heard.

"Are any of you worried about the numbers for this voyage?" One loud reporter's voice boomed out over the din. "I mean, this is Orbita 13, launching at thirteen hundred hours, thirteen minutes, thirteen seconds, landing on the moon four days and thirteen hours later and having splashdown in waters that are only thirteen hundred metres deep."

Jack cleared his throat. "The number thirteen is symbolic and coincidental. We're controlling Orbita 13, so it made sense that most things had thirteen in them. Even if this wasn't Orbita 13, the number thirteen would still be considered as the launch time, and the splash down depth."

"So you don't see it as an omen."

"Not at all. The only time I'd be worried was if we were launching on a Friday." Ben shook his head. "Personally, I think thirteen is a lucky number."

"Yeah," Jack ribbed quietly, as his hand covered the microphone so only the three astronauts could hear. "Maybe you'll have a good thirteenth marriage this time, not left standing at the altar, before you fly off into space."

"Mr. Tracy, what about you?"

"Thirteen doesn't bother me too much. I have five lucky numbers looking out for me."

"What would they be?" Another reporter called out, pen poised in hand.

"Twenty seven, fifteen, nine, thirty and six." Jeff replied with a smile, as he was one of the only people who knew why those numbers were significant.

"How do you feel about going back into space?"

"It's great. Seeing the Blue Marble… something you'll never get over, no matter how many times you go up there." Jack smiled.

"Is there anything else you'd like to say?"

Jeff looked guiltily at the camera and mumbled his response. "Um, yeah. If there's anyone from the IRS watching, I… forgot to file my… my 1040. Um, I meant to do it today, but uh, I… forgot." His voice trailed into nothing.

Back in Kansas, Gordon and Virgil were in peals of laughter.

"Dad forgot something! He's not perfect!"

"I know! It's unheard of!"

"Well," Virgil grinned slyly. "Now we know where Scott gets it from."

"Virgil, Gordon, stop teasing your brother." Josie ordered, as she pursed her lips. "Hmmph! That boy! So disorganized! I thought I taught him better! When he gets back, I'll tan his hide for that!"

"At least Dad's not worried about the IRS." John picked his book up of the ground. "That's gotta be something. I mean, they're the scariest people alive." John's face screwed up in concentration, as he stared at the screen. "Hey, Grandma, aren't they the astronauts who flew with Dad on his first journey to the moon?"

Alan turned around to face his grandma, schooling his face into a puzzled expression. "I don't get it. I forget things all the time and no-one minds. Why is Daddy so worried?"

"Because," Scott said, as he lifted Alan up. "When Daddy comes back, he's gonna get in trouble."

Alan's face cleared up, and he frowned. "I don't want Daddy to get in trouble." He yawned, and burrowed his face into Scott's shoulder.

"OK, let's get you off to sleep." Scott walked out the door, carrying a protesting Alan.

"But Scotty, I'm a big boy! I'm not tired!"

"Alright." Scott gave in. "I'll tell you a story then."

* * *

Scott held Alan's model rocket ship high in the air. "And he'll keep going up and up and up, until he reaches the moon."

"Scotty," Alan slurred sleepily. "Will there be a fire?"

Scott froze, just for a moment. "What makes you say that?"

"Virg told me there was a fire just before I was born." Alan yawned for the third time in five minutes. He was clearly fighting sleep. "Scotty, did Daddy know the people in the fire?"

Scott nodded sombrely. "He did. He knew all of them."

"Could that happen again?" Alan's lower lip wobbled.

"I'll tell you something about that fire, a lot of things went wrong. You see the door?" Scott pointed to the hatch on the model rocket ship. "It's called a hatch. The astronauts couldn't get it open when they needed to get out, that was one thing. A lot of things went wrong."

"Did they fix it?"

"Oh absolutely they fixed it. It's not a problem anymore. Nothing will be a problem anymore."

Alan nodded, as Scott tucked the blanket under his chin. "Night Scotty."

Scott turned off the light, and closed the door to Alan's darkened, hoping he told the truth to Alan.

**AN: please review.**


	4. All Shades of Red

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**AN: This chapter is set about two and a half months after the last one.**

Chapter Four- All Shades of Red

The master alarm light flickered on in the control panel.

"Ben, what's going on?" Jeff called out in alarm as he flicked several switches on and off.

"We're coming in at the wrong trajectory. Just give me a few moments. I can fix this."

"We don't have a few moments, Ben." Jack warned, after analysing his readouts.

A loud pop was then heard.

"Bad luck guys. You're dead." The supervisor said impassively into the comm. link.

"If I had a dime for every time they said that, I would be the richest man on the planet. What went wrong, Ben?" Jeff asked, while resetting his controls.

"We came in too steep. WAY too steep." Ben ran a hand frustratedly through his hair. "I don't understand. The math is right. That trajectory should be fine."

"Maybe it's something else." Jack suggested. "Maybe the math is right, but we're missing something. I think we should run the simulator again."

Jeff nodded. "We've two weeks to figure and sort out the problem. We can do this. Mission Control, we're going to try this one more time. Start the simulator."

* * *

Alan sat on the carpet of his classroom, as it was Circle Time. Today in Circle Time, they were reading stories.

"Now, we all know that there is an important space trip happening in two weeks, don't we?" Alan's teacher said.

"Yes!" The class chorused back.

"To recognize that, we're going to be doing a lot of work on space over the next two weeks. Starting with reading time." Alan's teacher held up a picture book. "Today, we're reading Star Bright at Night."

* * *

"Settle down, settle down." Scott's physics teacher grumbled as he slammed the door shut behind him. "After slaving away all day and all night for the past week, I have managed to mark your assignments."

Babbled broke out over the class.

"I will not, however," Mr Clarkson raised his voice over the din. "Hand them out until you are all sitting silently. There will be no talking as I hand them out. Is that understood?"

The class nodded as one.

"Good. Well, out of a class this advanced, I was surprised to see that only three people managed to earn full marks."

"Who were they?" One voice eagerly called out.

"I'm not telling. But one wrote on Mercury Seven, while the other two wrote on the crew that colonised the moon." He handed out the assignments, and then shuffled around in his pile of papers. "I've forgotten your copy of the criteria for marking. I'll just go back and get them."

"I guess there are no prizes for guessing who got full marks." The class underachiever and intimidating bully called out, causing him to earn some disapproving looks. "I mean, come on! That must have been the easiest assignment for Tracy to complete. All he had to do was ask Daddy."

Scott froze in his seat, and listened to the jibes the underachiever was throwing at him.

"Sounds like someone's jealous. A bad case of sour grapes." Tom placed a warning and restraining hand on Scott's shoulder.

"Yeah. Talk about whining." Jack agreed.

"Daddy, can you tell me this? Can you tell me that so I don't have to do the work? He must have it so easy with a dad who's willing to tell him the answers and not let him work it out for himself." The underachiever carried on, unaware of the danger he had just put himself in. "His work can't be that good. Surely they would have taken nepotism into account."

Scott had had enough. Something inside of him snapped, and he saw all shades of red. Breaking past his best friend's restraining arm, Scott pinned the bully against the wall. "Don't ever," Scott threatened with menace in his voice. "Don't ever do cruel, inaccurate impersonations ever again. And another thing, don't talk and bad mouth things you don't know. For your information, I didn't do the famous Jeff Tracy and his lunar landing. So what you just said then was crap and wrong. Do you understand?"

There was no answer.

"I said, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" Scott roared, breathing heavily in a futile attempt to calm himself down.

Unfortunately for Scott, Mr. Clarkson decided to waltz right back into his lab, just at that moment.

His eyes narrowed into slits at the sight he saw. "What is going on here?" He thundered.

Stunned, Scott released the bully, and pivoted on the spot to face an irate teacher.

"Tracy attacked me!" The bully lied. "I was just sitting here, and for no reason he attacked me." He eyed the class beadily, daring them to challenge his accusations. Everyone looked down, bar two people.

"That's not true!" Tom called out indignantly.

"Quiet, Mr. Riley."

"But it isn't!" Jack backed Tom up.

"Quiet, Mr. Swallow. I know what I saw. Report to the principal's office immediately. The pair of you. There will be serious repercussions for this."

* * *

Alan looked at his spacecraft model, made out of Lego, which was supposed to resemble Orbita 13, and burst into tears.

"Alan," his teacher cried out in alarm. "Whatever's the matter?"

"The door isn't opening." He sobbed. "Daddy won't be able to get out."

"What?" The teacher was puzzled by his comment.

"Scotty told me there was a fire. They couldn't get the door open. I don't want my daddy trapped in a fire." Alan sniffed, trying to control his tears. He may have only been six, but he was still a Tracy, and had a sense of pride and dignity which he had to maintain.

"Daddy'll burn." Alan picked up his model rocket, and tried to pull the door open again. "I don't want Daddy to die in a fire."

"Ssh. Alan, your Daddy won't burn in a fire. He'll land on the moon, collect five moon rocks, and come back to Earth. He'll be home before you know it." The teacher comforted him, hoping, like Scott, she wasn't telling the six year old a promise she couldn't keep.

* * *

Jeff rolled down his sleeve. "I'm glad that's over."

"Yeah," Ben commented. "You aren't too fond of needles, are you?"

"I can't believe they're making us do the blood tests again." Jack grumbled. "What was wrong with the first three sets they took?"

Jeff shrugged. "Don't look at me. I know about as much as you do on this one."

"They probably just want to confirm their results." Ben reassured them.

Jack sent a frosty glare down to Ben. "That's what the second and third sets of blood are for."

"Well, we'll know in half an hour. They'll have processed the blood by then." Jeff sighed, and stretched out in his chair. "I don't think I've ever felt this relaxed."

Ben's eyebrow quirked upwards. "Relaxed?"

"Yeah. I haven't heard any news from the school about the boys. Ne news is good news, right?"

"I guess."

Jeff's phone rang, and he leaned over to the table to answer it. He groaned when he saw the caller ID. "I jinxed myself with my last statement. It's the school."

Bracing himself for the worst, Jeff answered the phone. "Hello?"

Jeff's face tightened and his jaw clenched as he listened. "Right. I see. Thank you for letting me know." Jeff threw his phone back onto the table. "When I get back, I'm going to kill that boy!"

"What did Gordon do this time?" Ben asked tentatively, unsure of whether he wanted to hear the answer.

"It's not Gordon," Jeff answered, surprising the pair. "It's Scott. He was… involved in a… altercation at school."

* * *

Scott slouched behind his desk, bored out of his brain. He was given a detention for his 'outrageous behaviour and misconduct' as the principal had so charmingly put it. A phone call had also been made to Jeff, and this would stick on his permanent school record. Great, as if detention wasn't bad enough.

Scott let his imagination wander. What would his dad be doing now? Which simulation would he be training in?

It had taken a while, but Scott had finally accepted his father's decision to travel into space. He didn't understand it, but he had accepted it.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. Was it just him, or was the minute hand moving especially slowly toady?

'Great,' he thought sarcastically. 'I only have to endure two more hours of this torture, and then I get to have an absolutely delightful chat with my father. As if this day can get any worse.'

* * *

"You're kidding." Jeff deadpanned. "You got to be kidding. Of all the things you could have told me, it had to be that."

"Do you think this is something I would joke about?" Gene asked rhetorically.

"But it's OK." Jeff argued. "I know Jack and I have already had the chicken pox."

"You and Jack might have already had the chicken pox, but Ben Thinley hasn't." Gene looked down at the sheet in front of him. "Our test results indicate he'll catch them while he's up in space. We have no option but to pull him from the team."

Jeff sat up. "What? You can't pull him! We've learnt how to read each other's voices! We know when something's about to go wrong by the other person's body language and voice! We trust each other implicitly! You can't just take that away from us!"

"If you wait out for Ben, you will not be flying on Orbita 13, Jeff." Gene said. "It's your choice."

Jeff closed his eyes, and raked a hand through his mane of hair. "Pull him." He muttered. "Pull him off the team."

Gene nodded. "I'll send someone from medical personnel to tell him."

"No." Jeff contradicted. "I'll tell him. I'm commander. It's part of my job."

* * *

Ben sat in stunned silence. "I knew something was wrong when they started to run all those blood tests. I mean, I know they're in trouble if I get sick up there, but for crying out loud!"

Jeff looked Ben straight in the eye. "It was my decision, Ben. No-one else. Just me."

Ben jumped off his chair. "I'll talk to Gene. There must be some mistake. Maybe the medical staff should run the bloods again."

"Ben, it won't be much help." Jack said gently. "Gene's adamant that you don't fly with those test results."

A cloud of fury passed over Ben's face, and his eyes saw all shades of red. "Now listen up. I'm telling Gene exactly what I'm telling you now. I have never had the chicken pox. I will never have the chicken pox. I DO NOT have the chicken pox! Understand?"

Jeff glanced at Jack, as Ben stormed out of the room.

"I guess he didn't take it too well, then."

"Understatement of the century, Jack. Understatement of the century."

**AN: please review.**


	5. Cold Conversations and Fits of Rage

**Disclaimer: see chapter one **

**AN: I know, I know, I should've updated Shaking Foundations, but this chapter just came out as I was typing. Next chapter I type should be for the other story.**

**Again, there is a time jump in this, so just be warned. **

Chapter Five- Cold Conversations and Fits of Rage

Scott chucked his bag down on the ground and kicked it under a table when he finally got home after detention.

"Scott Malcolm Carpenter Tracy!" Josie screeched, wearing a flowery apron and a scowl. "You will place your bag properly upstairs and then you will come downstairs."

Scott grumbled indecipherably, as he climbed the stairs.

"Don't give me that attitude, young man! I've had two unpleasant phone calls about your behaviour!" She waited by the foot of the stairs, and when Scott came down, she pulled him by the scruff of his shirt into the kitchen, and closed the door behind them. "Sit."

Scott sat obediently, and eyed the phone lying innocently on the table. With a sigh, he picked up the phone, and dialled his dad.

* * *

Jeff was in Gene's office.

"Gene, please, test Ben's blood again. Ben says he doesn't have the chicken pox, and I'm willing to take his word over some lab tests."

Gene continued to stare out the window, towards the launch-pad. "He could get sick while he's in space."

"I'm ready to take that risk."

"I'm not. The decision stands. Ben is off, and Nick is on." Gene observed Jeff's facial expression. "Something you wanted to say about that?"

"Actually, yes." Jeff paused, anticipating his reaction. "It's not working. Every single simulator we've tried, we've failed. Dammit Gene, Stokes is a rookie. He's not ready for this!" Jeff slammed his fist on the table in anger.

"Every rookie has to start somewhere. Even you did, Jeff." Gene reminded him coldly. "Nick's a damn good pilot. Give him a chance. You've two weeks to perfect the simulators. I suggest you work on them instead of arguing with me."

"Yes, I think we should." Jeff replied, just as cold, as his phone rang. "Excuse me."

* * *

Virgil, Gordon and Alan all sat outside the kitchen, with their ear pressed against the door.

"Can you hear anything, Gordy?"

"No. Not with you constantly asking me every five seconds. Now shut up!"

"Gordy," Alan piped up. "What's happening? Why can't we go into the kitchen? I'm hungry."

"I don't know what's happening, Allie." Gordon replied, while ruffling his blond locks. "Here, have something to eat." Gordon handed Alan a king sized chocolate bar.

Unknown to them, John Tracy was standing behind them. "What are you guys doing?"

Virgil and Gordon turned round to John. "Sssh!"

John frowned. "What?"

"SSSH!!"

"Yeah Johnny, ssh!" Alan grinned toothily, chocolate caked over his lips, fingers, hair and hands. The only place chocolate couldn't be seen was inside his mouth.

John sighed while looking at Alan. Cleaning Alan up would take _a lot _of effort and patience on his part. Still, curiosity got the better of him, and John found himself lying on the floor, trying to eavesdrop through the crack between the door and the floor.

* * *

"Scott, what were you thinking? I thought you knew better than that! You'd better have a damn good explanation for your behaviour!" Jeff thundered, anger racing through his veins.

"I do." Scott replied tersely.

"Well, shoot. I'm listening." Jeff raised an eyebrow, even though he knew Scott couldn't see it.

"There's no point in talking if you won't hear. You're listening, but you've heard what you want to hear."

"What do you mean by that, boy? Are you implying that I wouldn't understand? Or at least try to?"

"Yeah, I think that's exactly what I'm saying!" Scott found all his suppressed rage and anger flow from his mouth like lava would flow from a volcano. "How could you understand?! The famous Jeff Tracy! The perfect astronaut, the role model for little kids, the idol everyone looks up to. Someone who's obviously never lost control in the heat of the moment. How would you be able to understand?"

Jeff forced himself to breathe in through his nose, and out through his mouth, in an attempt to calm himself down. He couldn't afford to stress out and get booted off the mission.

There was a long silence; the eye of the storm.

"Scott, talk to me. Tell me what happened. In your own words. I think you owe me that much."

Scott began to explain, with Jeff adding 'mmn-hmm'ing away at the right spots.

"Well, I don't approve of the way you handled the situation," Jeff admonished, after Scott had finished. "But it took a great deal of courage to stand up to him. Honestly, Scott; did you really have to pin him against the wall and then choke him? There are other ways to manage certain situations without resorting to violence."

Scott rolled his eyes. 'Here we go again. Count to ten. Don't to anything stupid blah, blah, blah…'

"And for Gods sake, use your judgement next time." Jeff ended his lecture.

"If you're looking for an apology, or even a hint of remorse, you're barking up the wrong tree." Scott sighed. His father didn't understand. "Are we done? Can I go now? I have a lot of work to do."

"I guess." Jeff paused, clearly uncomfortable at what he would say next. "Son, I know I don't say this often enough, but despite all your stupid, reckless, and occasionally dangerous ideas and stunts, I love you and am exceedingly proud of you."

The corners of Scott's mouth quirked up. "Ditto."

* * *

Scott sat outside the barn, near the fence, sucking on a piece of hay, his teeth chattering slightly, staring at the clear, albeit cold blue night sky.

"Makes you wonder what's out there, doesn't it?"

Startled, Scott looked towards the voice. "What are you doing out here so late?"

"I have to take Poochy out. His barking's driving the household nuts."

"Um, Tash, not wanting to be insensitive or anything, but are you insane? Tom told me Poochy died a while back."

"This is Poochy the third."

"OK," Scott stretched out the two syllable word, and took a long drag on his hay stalk. "I'll just pretend I understood that."

"Heard about your Physics lesson."

"Only now? Wow, news does travel slowly. That happened just less than two weeks ago."

"For what it's worth, I don't think you should have been punished for that."

"Well, I was." Scott brushed off the subject. "No point in stoning the crows when the crows are already dead."

"Still, I would've done exactly the same thing."

"No Tash, you wouldn't." Scott corrected with a lopsided grin. "You would have sent him to hospital in your fit of rage."

Tash's jaw dropped. "You know about that?"

Scott laughed. "Everyone knows about how you sent Jaime Andrews to hospital by socking him and breaking his nose."

"The stupid bozo deserved it." Tash spat out with disdain. "Shouldn't spread nasty rumours about people if he couldn't handle the reactions."

"Yeah. Shame others don't understand that."

"So, are you going to the launch?" She asked, changing the subject. "Getting a couple of days off school? It's in two days, not counting today."

"Maybe. I don't know." Scott leaned heavily on the fence, and ran a hand through his hair, glancing back at the sky.

"He'll be alright, you know." She touched his arm comfortingly.

He looked up, and their eyes met, neither one able to look away from the other. A distraction came in the form of Poochy, who was barking loudly.

Tash looked down at the dog. "I have to go. Put him in his kennel. Before he drives everyone crazy."

"Yeah. I have to check the barn's locked up." Scott held up some keys and a spare padlock. "See you tomorrow."

"See you."

* * *

Jeff rolled his eyes, as his control panel told him the capsule had crashed.

"Useless piece of-"Nick muttered under his breath, pounding a fist on the metal bar in front of him. He yawned with his teeth clenched, hoping no-one in the simulator would notice. "One more time."

"Nick, are you sure?" Jeff asked, noticing Nick was rubbing sleepy-dust out of his eyes. "You're tired. We all are. We're more prone to making mistakes. I think we should call it a night, and come back to this in the morning."

"No! With all due respect for your opinions, I'd rather sort out the problem now." Nick argued. "I am the one that's going to bring us back to Earth. I am the one that's responsible for that leg of the trip. I'm not going to fail in that. Once more. That's all I'm asking for."

Jeff sighed. Although he didn't want to admit it, it was Nick's call. "Mission Control, we're going to run the simulator one more time."

"Roger that. Starting simulator."

Jeff looked at Nick. "Last time tonight, OK?"

Nick nodded determinedly, his hand dancing over his control panel.

"She's all yours."

Jeff trained his eyes onto the warning alarms, praying none of them would go off. He tuned out, watching…waiting…

"It's done!" Jack cried out, breaking into Jeff's thoughts.

"Good work, Nick." Jeff congratulated, while climbing out of the simulator capsule. "You've cracked it. We should have no problems from now on."

**AN: ooh, coming up to the exciting part now. Please review. **


	6. Up, Up, and Away

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**AN: Hey, thanks for the reviews. I am also posting this on my deviantart as well (the link should be posted on my profile soon) so if for some reason, the document manager is down, I will post the chapter there. **

Chapter Six- Up, Up, and Away

The moment Scott pushed the front door open, Alan and Gordon slid past him, kicked off their shoes, tossed their bags near the foot of the steps and ran to the TV, arguing over which cartoon they would watch.

With a sigh, Scott picked up their bags, carried them upstairs and placed them on their respective beds. He walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, where his grandmother sat on a chair, muttering down the phone.

Josie beamed at Scott when she saw him. Her attention was quickly back on the phone. "No, he's here. I'll put him on. He'll want an explanation, and it's going to come from you." Josie handed Scott the phone. "It's your father."

Scott rolled his eyes. What had he done now? "Hello?"

"Hello son. How are you?" Jeff's gravely voice asked.

"I'm fine sir. And you?"

"Me, son? Never been better." Jeff hesitated, unsure of how to approach the subject. "You know the launch is in two day?"

"Yes. It's kind of hard to forget, considering your own dad is commanding the launch and trip."

"I don't want you there." Jeff blurted out bluntly.

"What?"

"You have exams coming up in a few weeks. I trust you enough to know that you're studying hard, and I don't want to distract you from it." Jeff explained, feeling bad.

"And the others are going." Scott stated, even though it sounded like an accusation.

"Well, yes."

"So, you're saying I'm too old to come to the launch?" Scott asked, dangerously quietly. He may not have liked his father's mission, but he still wanted to see Jeff off and wish him luck.

"Scott, try to understand," Jeff placated.

"This is so unfair! This is age discrimination!" Scott yelled, before slamming the phone on the oak table, and storming out of the kitchen.

* * *

Josie sat down on the edge of Scott's bed with a sigh, careful not to wake a sleeping John. "Sweetie, I know you're awake. Talk to me."

Scott blinked in the dark, but still continued to feign sleep.

"I'll make you a big mug of hot chocolate with the marshmallows in them, and you can have some chocolate chip cookies." Josie enticed.

Apparently, John wasn't as asleep as Josie thought. He mumbled the only halfway coherent sentence she could understand, and then rolled over. "I don't want to go on the rocket ship with rookies."

"You can have a slice of apple pie." Josie continued.

Scott shot up out of his bed, and was at the door in a blink of an eye, causing Josie to bite her lip to stop her laughing. If there was one thing that could get Scott out of a bad mood, it was a slice of apple pie.

"Are you coming? It's a clear night, and there are some good constellations to see." Scott asked John, knowing John wasn't asleep before throwing the door open and letting the hallway light emit a soft yellow in the darkened bedroom.

John sat up. "Really?"

Scott rolled his blue eyes. "No. I lied. Go back to sleep."

John lowered his eyes and pouted.

"You don't understand sarcasm yet, do you?"

"I understand it." John replied. "I just don't know when you're being serious or sarcastic. It's so difficult to tell with you and your teenager mood swings."

"You're a teenager." Scott pointed out.

"Yes, but I'm the picture of perfection; the epitome of innocence. I don't get mood swings." John smiled smugly.

"Whatever." Scot left the room, and headed down the stairs, John and Josie following in his wake.

* * *

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Scott asked, fishing a marshmallow out from his drink. John had gulped down his hot drink, and was now sitting on the roof of the house, looking at the stars.

"I just wanted to ask if you were OK with us going to the launch." Josie smiled, taking a tiny bite of her slice of pie.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. I simply love being the one left behind."

Josie sighed. "Sweetie, your father wants what's best for you. He seems to think it's better for you to concentrate on your exams."

"Don't I get a say in what's best for me?"

"Not this time." Josie sighed again. "It's your father's decision. If he wants you to stay at home and study, then you'll stay at home and study. I want you to respect his wishes."

Scott shrugged in defeat. He knew there was no way he could persuade his grandma to let him go. Once Josie had made up her mind about something, nothing would move her.

"Scott, you know that if it was any other time, your father would love for you to be there."

"I know. So, when are you going?" Scott spooned the last of his apple pie slice into his mouth.

"Tomorrow. We'll be gone for two nights and one day. Not that long." Josie assured her eldest grandson.

Scott nodded, as he rinsed his mug and plate, and stacked them in the dishwasher. "Understood."

"Scott?"

"Yes?"

"While we're gone, please, for the love of everything good and holy, please do NOT try and make anything in the kitchen. You know what happened last time you set foot in the kitchen without supervision."

* * *

Jeff packed his bag. It was his last night in his sleeping quarters. Tomorrow, he would be in quarantine, and the day after tomorrow… Jeff's stomach flipped as he thought of his upcoming mission.

There was one more item he needed to pack. It was probably the most important item of them all.  
Sitting in the centre of his dresser was a photo of his family. It was the last photo taken of the family before Lucy passed on. With a sigh, Jeff picked up the photo, stared intently at it and sat heavily on the bed.

'Oh, Luc,' he thought pensively. 'Am I doing the right thing? Is this trip worth the risk? What will happen to the boys if I don't make it back? Am I being too unfair on Scott, forcing to become old before his time, should the worst happen?'

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of such thoughts. 'Tracy,' a voice in his head told him sternly. 'Now is not the time to have doubts or second thoughts. It's too late; you cannot pull out now. You will be seeing most of your family again tomorrow. Focus on the positives.'

* * *

For the first time this whole year, Scott managed to unlock the front door, and enter home without having two little rascals push past him.

He kicked of his shoes, headed into the living room, and flicked on the TV, just in time to see the opening credits for the news. Old habits, Scott reasoned, died hard.

"Today's headlines; police are charged with drink-driving, almost seven times over the legal limit. Interest rates are on the rise, and average American families continue to struggle."

'Us included.' Scott thought dryly.

"But first," the TV continued to stream through the room. "We cross over to our live link at Cape Canaveral, where the crew of Orbita 13 are currently holding their last and exclusive interview with INN before they leave for the moon.

Scott's pulse raced that little bit faster. This was what he wanted to see. He edged towards the screen in anticipation.

"It's two days before the launch, how do you feel?" the interviewer asked.

"Absolutely wonderful." Jack smiled. "The sun is shining; the sky is blue, what could go wrong?"

The interviewer laughed, and then turned to face Nick. "This is your first time into space. Do you feel ready for such a momentous occasion?"

"Well, everyone has to start somewhere. I guess I'll start from here."

The interviewer looked at the time. "Just one last question. Is there anything you'd like to say to your family or our viewers?"

Jeff nodded. "This is for my sons, starting from youngest to oldest. Alan, be good for your grandma, stay out of trouble, and Daddy'll be back before you know it. Who knows, he might even have a moon rock for you.

Gordon, for God's sake, stop the pranks. Be good for your brothers, and keep up with your swimming. Just because I can't take you to the pool, it doesn't mean you can slack off.

Virgil, when you get home, look at the bottom of your sock drawer. I won't say anymore. It will ruin the surprise.

John, go up into the attic. Under the round window, you'll find a telescope, along with some star charts. Take a look at them, they're pretty interesting.

And last, but not least, Scott. Listen, you will be responsible while I'm away, right? I don't expect to find the house burnt to a crisp on my return. And please, please, please, do NOT, I repeat, do NOT make any sort of food in any shape or form. You may be an all-rounder, but, cooking is not your forte. If I come back and find we are missing a kitchen, I will hold you personally responsible, OK?"

"Yeah, right!" Scott scoffed. "At least _I _don't set fire to the kitchen making a sandwich. I am way better at cooking than you are, Dad."

Scott hit the power button on the remote. He had seen what he wanted to see. With a sigh, he trudged up the stairs to complete his homework in the unnatural silence of the house.

* * *

"Daddy!" Alan broke free of Josie's vice like grip, and ran towards Jeff, ignoring the barriers and bars that separated the spectators from the astronauts.

Luckily, John caught the back of his shirt, preventing him from crawling under the gates.

"Johnny, let me go! I want to see Daddy!" Alan ordered.

"You can't." John explained. "Those barriers are there to stop Daddy from getting our germs and falling sick in space. We don't want Daddy to be sick in space, do we?"

Alan shook his head, his curls bouncing on his head.

It was nearing eleven at night, and the astronauts and families had gathered near the launch site, to say their farewells.

Jeff turned his head, to see most of his family standing in front of him. "Hi boys!" he greeted, from the far side of the fence.

John, Virgil and Gordon all waved back, while Alan screamed "DADDY!" at the top of his lungs.

With a laugh, Jeff moved as close as he could, without breaking through the safety zone. "Have you boys been good for Grandma?"

Four eager heads nodded, and Jeff looked at his mother for conformation.

"They have been wonderfully behaved, Jeff."

"How was the flight?"

"It was better than normal. Alan slept for most of it. Gordon was occupied with his fish, weren't you sweetie? Virgil had his sketchpad, so he was busy drawing away."

"John?"

Josie sighed. "Those air-sickness pills the doctor prescribed don't seem to work. He spent half his time feeling sick. When he wasn't feeling sick, he was being sick."

Jeff's concerned laser beam stare focused on John.

"I'm fine Dad, chillax."

"Chillax?"

John nodded. "Cross between chill and relax."

"What about Scott?"

"He was fine last time I called." Josie replied. "Unsociable, but fine."

Jeff groaned. "Teenagers." He tilted his head to the left. "Mom, be honest; was I this bad when I was Scott's age?"

"No." Josie smirked, as she heard her son sigh in relief. "You were worse. Much worse."

Jeff glanced around at his surroundings. His crew had been dragged away to get some rest, and Jeff knew it would be his turn soon. "I have to go now."

Josie nodded, tears filling her eyes as she realised it was the last time she would see her son before the launch. "Listen son, I want you to take care on this flight. I want you to come back. You have five beautiful boys who want to see their Daddy land on the moon and arrive back on Earth, do you understand?"

Jeff nodded.

"And son," Josie swallowed, blinking back tears. "I love you."

Jeff Tracy paused, his lips quirking upwards. "Ditto."

* * *

Sun streamed through the gangplank. Jeff could hear the crowds cheering below. It was a day that would be noted down in history. It was the day of Orbita 13's launch.

"You guys ready?" Jack asked, as he lowered his visor on his helmet.

"Gotta be ready." Jeff replied, training his eyes on the small door they had to climb through. "Too late to back out now."

With a surge of confidence and pride, Jeff strode down the gangplank, Jack and Nick following behind him.

He settled himself into his commander's seat, and ran his pre-launch checks. "Houston, this is Orbita. Pre-launch diagnostic tests are complete."

"Orbita, this is Houston. Confirming that you have lift off in one minute… fifty seconds… forty seconds… thirty seconds… twenty seconds… ten seconds… five… four… three… two… one."

The base of the rocket booster let out a puff of white smoke and an almighty BANG, leading the astronauts and Orbita 13 up, up, and away.

**AN: please review.**


	7. Houston, We've Had a Problem

**Disclaimer: see chapter one. Also don't own 'Man on the Moon- REM' either.**

**AN: Just to make this chapter easier understand, this is set about four days after the ending of the last chapter.**

Chapter Seven- Houston, We've Had a Problem.

Jeff unstrapped himself from the wall, and swam through the air towards the Command Module. "How're we going, Nick?"

"Pretty good. We should be landing on the moon in a few hours."

"Excellent." Jeff pulled the portable video camera off the wall. "Jack," he hollered. "Get in here. We're about to broadcast."

NASA's public relations department thought it was a good idea to show live broadcasts of the space mission and its crew to keep people interested.

"Alright, alright." Jack grumbled, wiping sleepy-dust out of his eyes. "Whoever said 'in space, no-one can scream' was wrong." Jack shot daggers at Jeff. "I heard you loud and clear."

Jeff cleared his throat to maintain some form of dignity. "I wasn't screaming. I was talking very, very loudly. Anyway, are you ready?"

Jack nodded. "MP3 plugged in and ready to go."

"All set here, Jeff." Nick settled back into his chair.

Jeff raised his microphone to his mouth. "Houston, we are ready to roll."

"Roger that, Orbita, you can start the broadcast at any time."

"Orbita's beginning broadcast now."

* * *

Scott's hand shot out of his bed covers as his alarm clock went off. He threw off the covers and stumbled down the stairs in semi darkness, being careful not to wake the sleeping members of his family, who had returned from Cape Canaveral the night before.

To his surprise, John, Josie and Virgil were already sitting on the sofa, watching the TV in the dark.

"There you are." Josie looked up and smiled as Scott walked into the room. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep through this."

"Yeah, well, in Scott's old age, he needs his beauty sleep." John quipped, causing Virgil to crack up laughing.

"Oh, very funny." Scott yawned, while sitting heavily on John in revenge.

"Boys, stop it!" Josie scolded. "Scott, get off your brother; you'll hurt him."

Reluctantly, Scott stood up, and lay sprawled out on the floorboards.

"The person that sang 'he ain't heavy, he's my brother,' obviously never met you." John grumbled, massaging his ribs.

With a roar of outrage, Scott sprag up into a sitting position, ready to retaliate.

"Boys! I won't tell you again! I can always run into the kitchen and find my rolling pin." Josie's voice cut through the air like a knife would cut through butter. "Now shush, the broadcast is about to start, and I for one, would like to listen to it."

All eyes were trained on the screen.

"Hello there," Jeff's static, crackled voice came through the speakers, followed by a flaky image. "This is Orbita 13, with Commander Jeff Tracy commentating. For your enjoyment, we have a soundtrack prepared for you, as we tour the shuttle."

The camera focused on Jack, who began to play the MP3, and twisted it so it had a continual 360 degree rotation.

Jeff groaned as the guitar introduction of 'Man on the Moon' echoed round the tin chamber. "I thought we had our official soundtrack in the MP3 player, but apparently we don't."

"Hey," Jack called out indignantly. "What's wrong with Man on the Moon? It's kind of fitting considering our task."

"Sorry Jeff. I'd have to agree." Nick shrugged with a smile.

Jeff visibly rolled his eyes, which made Virgil, John and Scott laugh.

"Right," the camera shifted as Jeff turned out of the Command Module and skittled towards the Lunar Landing Capsule. "This is our Lunar Landing Capsule, also known as the LLC. This is what Jack and I will be landing on the moon. Impressive, isn't it?" Jeff gestured wildly with one arm. "Over here is our life support system, and next to that on the right is our data analysis machine." He momentarily let go of the portable camera, as he forward rolled with ease and dragged himself up the tube connecting the LLC and Command Module. "Any messages you want to send home?" Jeff asked, focusing the camera on his colleagues.

Jack nodded. "To my lovely wife, I'll be back with you and our baby boy soon, don't worry about me, I'm fine and I love you."

"Nick, what about you?" Jeff swivelled to him

"Just a hi to my family and friends and see you when I get out of quarantine."

Behind the astronauts, a gentle constant beep could be heard. "Looks like that's our cue. See you when we get back. This is Orbita 13, signing off."

* * *

Alan bounced on the carpeted floor of his classroom. All classes in Alan and Gordon's school had been cancelled to see the crew of Orbita land on the moon's surface.

The chatter that had been floating round the classroom died down as everyone watched the screen.

First, one shadowy foot appeared on the screen, then another. The torso, dressed in a padded, shiny, white suit came into focus. Finally the head, covered with a helmet and visor emerged on the screen.

"Houston, we have touchdown on the moon."

A huge cheer rang around the room. Alan's cheer was the loudest, and he clapped his hands together. "Daddy's going to bring me back the largest moon rock he can find."

The teacher smiled at Alan and his obvious enthusiasm. That kid, she thought, was a chip of the old block. He was destined for astronaut training, at the very least.

* * *

Virgil ran through the corridors, leaving Gordon behind, weaving in and out of the high school students that towered over him. "John!" He cried out over the din after glimpsing peroxide blond hair. "JOHN!"

Surprised, John turned around and faced Virgil. "Virgil? What are you doing here?"

"He landed. Dad landed safely on the moon." Virgil nodded to affirm his statement as John did a double take. "Does Scott know?"

John shook his head, peroxide locks falling across his face like a barrier.

"Can I tell him?" Virgil was almost jumping up and down through excitement and relief.

John shook his head again. "He's in the middle of his assessment task. You won't be allowed into the room."

"But this is important!" Gordon persisted, finally catching up to John and Virgil.

"So's his assessment task." John replied evenly. "Even if they did let you into the room, do you honestly think Scott would be receptive to that news?"

Virgil squirmed, as the bell rang.

"Exactly." John continued. "Don't worry. I'll let him know as soon as he comes out. Now skedaddle, before you get into trouble."

"OK." Gordon and Virgil scampered back to their part of the school.

* * *

Nick settled back into his seat, and fired up the engines. "Houston, lunar lander crew have just returned. Is there anything you'd like us to do?"

"Yes, Orbita. Get the LLC up into space, and then give all the tanks a bit of a stir."

"Orbita up into the air, and stir all tanks." Nick repeated. "Roger that, Houston. Orbita 13 out."

* * *

Jeff pulled off his helmet, and grinned at Jack in the LLC. "Whew! Never thought I'd live to see the day where one-on-one basketball was played on the moon, let alone me being one of the players."

Jack grinned back. "There's a first time for everything, you know. Still, Alan Shepard must be annoyed. Now, everyone's playing sport on the moon."

"It's easier to win on the moon." Jeff smirked. "Anyway, Shepard played golf, not basketball. We're the first of a kind."

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the warning alarms echoed through the craft.

Jeff shot Jack a warning glance. "Doesn't sound too good." He hauled himself up the tube, only to see Nick panicking information down to Houston.

"Sorry, Orbita, we didn't quite catch that. Please repeat."

Jeff looked out of the window. He could feel his blood turn to ice. No, that wasn't good at all. Raising his microphone to his mouth, he began to respond. "Houston, we've had a problem…"

**AN: please review.**


	8. The Blame Game

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**AN: Lucky me. My brother was so nice, and he let me borrow his computer for a few hours since he had no course work. You rock, dude!**

**Should probably warn you, there is a little bit of strong language in this chapter.**

Chapter Eight- The Blame Game

"We're venting something. It could be rocket fuel."

Horror filled every single flight operator in Houston. Chaos ruled, as people tapped mercilessly away on their data panels.

"Alright people!" Gene ordered. "Listen up! There are a variety of things they could be venting. I want to find out what it is, and I want to know it quick! No guesswork! Definite facts! Let's work the problem, not make it worse by far-fetched guesswork." He paced up and down, his head screwed up in concentration.

"It's some sort of gas, not a liquid." Jeff's crackled voice came through the speakers. "It's like a fine mist. Houston, I think it's safe to assume the gas is oxygen."

"OK Orbita, we are going to confirm your assumption." Gene strode over to the oxygen tank panel, and leaned over the engineers. "Orbita, we have confirmed. You are losing oxygen at a steady rate. We will try and find a way to fix the leak. In the meantime, close all tanks down. We cannot risk an explosion."

"Copy that. Shutting down all tanks. Orbita 13 out." The link between mission control and Orbita 13 broke.

Gene turned around, only to find over three hundred pairs of eyes staring at him. "I believe a change in our mission plan is needed." He pulled a marker board towards him, and drew two circles, one slightly smaller and higher than the other one, representing the Earth and the moon. Above the moon, he marked an X. "This is where our men are. I want them to come all the way down here," Gene dashed small hyphen sized lines on the board towards the South Pacific. "Alive, and with fuel and oxygen to spare. Any questions?"

One hand crept up into the air. "What scenarios are certainties, and which ones can we speculate on?"

"Worst case scenario. Go with the worst case scenario until we receive an update."

Once again, babble broke out, the most common phases being thrown around were 'Orbita can't do that' and 'it won't work, there's not much we can do now.'

"Listen people!" Gene roared over the din. "I don't care what any part of Orbita was designed to do; I care about what it can do! Tank engineers; design a makeshift plug out of everything in this box. Get the square peg to fit in the round hole. That's all our men have up there." He shoved a box at the nearest tank engineer. "Hurry. They may not have a lot of time."

* * *

For the first time in his whole lunchtime swimming training session, Gordon couldn't move. He was frozen, petrified.

An announcement had just filtered over the school speakers. There had been reports of an explosion on Orbita 13. There were rumours and speculation about the death of the astronauts onboard Orbita 13.

"Gordon," Coach Evans kneeled in front of him. "If you want to stop and get out now, I will understand."

Gordon swallowed past the painful lump that had formed in his throat. "No, Coach, I'm fine."

"Gordon, take five minutes. Get yourself together."

"I said I was fine!" Gordon shouted, his voice reverberating around the pool, causing the other elite swimmers to stop. "I'll keep on swimming until my quota's done!"

Coach Evans nodded in understanding. "Alright Gordon, get going. Three more perimeter laps freestyle, two more butterfly and then the warm down laps."

* * *

Virgil's fingers dropped onto the piano keys, ruining his whole piece. He was frozen to the core. Not that Virgil believed the rumours. His dad would be fine. His dad had promised him he would be there for his first concert.

'Dad, I know you're up there,' he thought. 'I'm holding you to the promise you made. Please Dad, I'll play the best damned concert you'll ever hear. Just come back soon.'

* * *

John's script slid from his hands. He was in the middle of an English lesson, and his class were putting on a performance of The Merchant of Venice.

"John," the new English teacher prompted. "It's your line."

John shook his head. "No."

"John, is there something wrong?"

"He's not dead!" John yelled. "He can't be!" Silent tears trickled down John's cheek, and he wiped them away angrily, not wanting his classmates to see his tears. "He promised he's come back. He promised."

* * *

Scott could feel his hands curling into fists. Anger bubbled and boiled. He knew something bad would happen on this space mission. But he'd never expect this. Not in a million years.

"Lies." Scott whispered. "All lies."

Tom and Jack just looked at each other. What could you say to your best friend, who had just been told his father was possibly dead?

"He's not dead. None of them are. Those reports are lies."

* * *

"Houston, this is Orbita."

"We are receiving you loud and clear, Orbita."

"Have you got a solution for us? We'd also like re-entry procedures."

Gene hesitated. "Not yet, Jack. We're still working on it."

He lowered the microphone away from his mouth. "Get me the plug procedures! Who was working on re-entry?"

"We can't." An assistant faltered. "We haven't found solutions for either yet. I can get you an estimate, though."

"I don't want another estimate, dammit!" Gene roared. "I want the procedures! NASA's never lost men in space, and they won't lose any on my watch! The word failure does not exist anymore!"

Frightened, the assistant moved away. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you." Gene lifted his microphone to his mouth. "Don't worry men, we'll get you them soon enough. In the meantime, we want you to go into the LLC and stay there."

* * *

Pulling his mike away from his mouth, Jack turned to his flight partner. "Nothing. They have absolutely nothing for us." Jack made no attempt to hide the venom in his voice.

"I'm sure they're doing their best." Jeff soothed, re-reading his emergency procedures manual, sitting in his command chair in the Command Module. "This must be a first for NASA."

"No kidding, Jeff." Jack replied sourly.

"Guys, guys, have they got something for us?" Nick crawled up from the LLC. Both Jeff and Jack shook their head. "Listen, they're not going to get something to us. They can't. Our trajectory's wrong. We try and use the moon's gravity to slingshot us around, and we'll skim straight off Earth's atmosphere."

Jack and Jeff stared stupidly at Nick. "How'd you work that out?"

"I'm not stupid! I can add!"

"Nick, they have half the PhDs in the country working to save us. We'll be OK." Jeff reassured.

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "Houston says we're right on course."

"And what if they made a mistake, huh? And there was no way of correcting it. You honestly think they'd tell us?" Nick retorted; his temper frayed. "There's no reason for them to tell us! Why should they? It's not going to make that much of a difference, is it?"

"What are you saying, they won't tell us? That's bull and you know it." Jack responded hotly, his temper about to fray as well.

"Nick, we have just over nine hundred things to do. We are on number thirteen. You are talking about number eight hundred and ninety nine." Jeff interjected calmly.

"Meanwhile I'm trying to tell you they've made a mistake on our course. I'm trying to tell you we'll skim off Earth's atmosphere. NASA knows it, and that's why we don't have a damned entry plan!"

Jeff drew in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring out. "That's duly noted, thank you Nick."

Knowing it was futile to try and reason with them, Nick turned around, banging his head on the tunnel linking the LLC and the Command Module. "OW!" He howled. "Useless piece of shit!"

"Hey!" Jack yelled, his temper finally snapping into two. "This piece of shit is the thing that'll get us home. 'Cause that's the only thing we have now!"

"And what is that supposed to mean, Jack?" Nick spat.

"Oh, I think you know what I'm saying." Jack narrowed his stormy eyes.

"Now hang on, all I did was stir the tanks."

"What were the readings before you hit the switch?"

"Don't tell me how to do my job!" Nick flared. "They told me to stir the tanks, so I did!"

"You didn't do any of the checks or gauge readings, did you?" Jack asked rhetorically. You didn't know what the hell you were doing! Now look at the mess we're in!"

"Nick," Jeff said quietly. "Stop blaming yourself, OK? It's not solving anything."

Nick ignored Jeff. "This is NOT my fault!" He roared, staring straight at Jack.

"No-one is saying it is you're fault." Jeff placated. "If I was in the command chair, I would've stirred the tanks."

"Yeah, well, tell him that." Nick jerked his head towards Jack.

Jack held up his hands. "All I asked was for the gauge readings. And he DOESN'T know!"

"We're not doing this, gentlemen. We are NOT going to play the blame game here! We are NOT going to lose our tempers, because that doesn't solve anything! Try to stay alive, people!" Jeff yelled, silencing them all.

"Orbita, this is Houston. Do you read?"

"Are we on link?" Jeff shouted.

"No we are not on link with Houston."

"Yes Houston, of course we read." Jeff joked calmly into the mike. "We also watch TV and play video games. What have you got for us?"

"We want you to shut down the engines in the Command Module, Nick. There's no way we can fix the Command Module. Jeff and Jack, we want you to re-route the remaining oxygen back into the Lunar Landing Capsule. That piece of tin just became your lifeline."

"Nick to shut down Command Module, and Jack and me to re-route remaining oxygen into the LLC." Jeff paused. "Houston, do you have a re-entry for us?"

"Not yet. We'll let you know as soon as we get one. Houston, over and out."

"Nick, get to it." Jeff ordered, before swimming up the tunnel.

"Told you. Told you they didn't have a plan." Nick muttered under his breath, after making sure Jack and Jeff were out of earshot. He worked in silence, morosely shutting down and turning off all the engines and support machines. The last thing Nick had to turn off was the lights. The Command Module was plunged into darkness. "Houston, all machines have been turned off. There is no power running right now in the Command Module."

"Good work, Nick. Now, get yourself up to the LLC."

"Roger that." Nick looked around the broken, darkened shadows surrounding him. "This is Orbita 13, Command Module, signing off."

**AN: Like Shaking Foundations, this story may not have super fast updates. I just have to see when my brother feels like sharing his computer with me. I apologize in advance for the long gaps in updating. Please review.**


	9. A Light in a Dark Tunnel

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**AN: You are lucky ducks aren't you? Another chapter in so many days. Again, massive thanks to my brother for letting me use his laptop. I hope his nice streak lasts the next two months. **

Chapter Nine- A Light in a Dark Tunnel

John attacked Scott in the hallway like a heat seeking missile. "Have you heard?"

Scott nodded mutely, chucking his books into his locker.

"Do you believe it?"

"NASA's wrong." Scott stated. "I don't care what their fancy technology tells them. Dad and his crew are not dead!" He shot an appraising look over John. "How's Virgil?"

John shrugged. "I haven't seen him yet."

"Find him." Scott ordered. "Stay with him. I'm going to go the Gordon and Alan's school. I think Gordon would know, but Alan probably doesn't."

* * *

Scott knocked gently on the kindergarten classroom door. As soon as the door opened, Alan scampered up to Scott and threw his arms around him. "Scotty! What are you doing here?"

Scott smiled down at his six year old brother, and gently pushed him back into his class group. "I was just wondering if I could borrow Alan for a moment."

Alan's teacher beckoned him aside before she replied. "I take it you've heard."

Scott nodded.

"Alan doesn't know. None of the kids do."

"I figured as much." Scott said evenly, careful to keep his rising anger in check. "That's why I'm here. _Someone_ needs to tell him. He has a right to know. It's his dad up there. Is there a spare classroom somewhere?"

Alan's teacher placed a comforting arm on Scott's shoulder. "Take him. Down the hall, second door on the right. Can't miss it." She turned towards her kindy class. "Alan, go with your brother."

Once more, Alan tackled Scott. "Scotty, where are we going?" Alan had grabbed Scott's hand and was swinging it madly, as Scott led the pair of them to the empty classroom.

Once they were inside, Scott closed the door. "You know how Daddy's gone up in space on a big rocket?" Scott began, unsure of how to break the news to Alan.

"Yeah!" Alan cried out. "I saw it! It was this big!" Alan spanned his arms as wide as he could.

"Well, something broke on Daddy's rocket," Scott hesitated. "He's going to have a little bit of trouble getting home."

Tears pooled in Alan's sky blue eyes, and he looked imploringly up at Scott. "Was it the door?"

"No Alan." Scott crouched down to Alan's height. "It wasn't the door.

That was it for Alan. He burst into tears. "You promised he'd come back. You promised!"

In the blink of an eye, Scott had gathered Alan into an embrace. "Sssh." He rocked Alan from side to side, and rubbed circles on his back. "How about we get you home, huh?"

"What about school?" Alan sniffed.

Scott hoisted Alan up onto his shoulder. "I don't think that's important right now. We'll just stop and tell John, and then we can go, OK?"

* * *

John chewed methodically on his sandwich, sitting next to his friends, even though he wasn't hungry.

"Hey John," John looked up at the shadow that was blocking the sun. "I'm gonna take Alan home. Will you be OK to take the others at three thirty?"

John swallowed. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Anything else?"

"Let Jack or Tom know I'm not here. They can get the work for me."

John nodded. Finally, he raised his ice blue eyes at his brother. "Scott, what if NASA's actually right? That makes me scared."

"I know. We all are."

* * *

As quietly as he could, Scott turned the key in the lock, keeping a hold on Alan. "Just remember, be quiet, and don't upset Grandma."

Lifting Alan onto his shoulders, Scott slipped into the kitchen, only to find his grandmother screaming down the phone.

"Don't you DARE put me on hold! I have been on this phone for hours just trying to get a straight answer! And don't insult my intelligence and give me the 'it's classified' nonsense! I want the truth and I want it now!" Josie huffed as supposedly soothing strains of music played through the phone.

"Is everything OK, Grandma?" Alan asked, forgetting he was supposed to be silent.

Josie whirled around in surprise. "Alan, what are you doing home so early?"

"Scotty brought me. He said school wasn't important."

Josie glared murder at her eldest grandson. So much for being a good influence.

"Alan," Scott gulped, seeing the expression on his grandmother's face. "You weren't supposed to tell her that."

"Oh, oops." Alan's face fell.

"What have you found out?" Scott asked, helping himself to a slice of bread.

"Not much." Josie snorted. "Just some stupid NASA confidentiality and they will let us know in any change of circumstance. Ha, who are they trying to kid? They didn't let me know when they got the reports of trouble on the space craft; why should I trust them to let me know if there's any change."

Scott nodded, and said he would check the TV reports. "Just in case there's anything new."

* * *

Nick sealed the hatch in the LLC, connecting the Command Module with the tunnel. "It's shut down. There's no going back in there now."

"We know." Jack mumbled, scribbling away on a piece of scrap paper.

"What are you doing?"

"Seeing which systems we have to turn off to conserve enough energy to drag our butts back down home." Jeff replied, scanning each piece of machinery. "Pull 'em all. Get Houston's approval, but we'll have to pull them all. Except… the carbon filter."

"How long will that give us?"

Jack raised his eyes off the paper, let his pen float in mid air, and shot a steely look at Nick. "From my calculations, it should last us long enough to get home. Which, by the way, we will do, regardless of what you think!"

* * *

Virgil kept staring at the speaker mounted on the wall, praying for another announcement.

"Mr. Tracy," a soft voice broke into his head.

Startled, he pulled himself out of his reverie.

"How nice of you to join us." Virgil's math teacher continued. "While you were daydreaming, we took several notes on Euler's method of the interior angle sum of a polygon. Did any of that happen to penetrate into your head?" She glanced down at his blank notebook. "Apparently not."

Virgil could feel the familiar sense of anger and shame rising up his back. Why did Mrs. Henderson always pick on him? Was it because of his siblings, and their outstanding results in maths? It wasn't his fault he found maths difficult; he was left-handed. He was creative, not logical.

"Mr. Tracy, a word at my desk, please."

Like a frightened rabbit about to be shot, Virgil took baby steps towards his doom.

"Virgil," Mrs. Henderson began, compassion shining in her eyes. "I understand you must be upset-"

"How could you? You've never had to hear that kind of an announcement over a school speaker! You've never had to spend a day wondering if you're father's dead or alive! How could you understand?"

"I understand that you are upset," Mrs. Henderson continued as if there had been no interruption. "But your father would want you to do the best you can. That means you have to concentrate, no matter what the circumstances."

"You can't say that!" Virgil snarled, while knowing she was right. "You don't know my father from a hole in the ground!" Unable to stand being in the same room as that… monster, Virgil strode to the door, practically ripped it off it's hinges and slammed it shut behind him.

* * *

Scott flicked from channel to channel. They were all saying the same thing on the newscast; Orbita 13 suffered a major explosion, and all astronauts onboard were possibly dead.

_Possibly. _Not probably; possibly.

That gave Scott a glimmer of hope in the dark tunnel he faced. He stopped, his finger hovering over the channel change button.

"… _we have just received confirmed reports from NASA that all the astronauts are alive and well on board Orbita 13." _

"Alan! Grandma!" Scott hollered, relief coursing through his veins. "Get in here now! There's something you gotta see!"

Alan and Josie were there faster than a tornado. "What is it?"

"It's Dad and the crew." Scott ran a hand through his hair so it stood up on its end. "NASA has just confirmed that they are all alive and well."

**AN: If I don't have a chance to update after this, I hope you have a merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Seasons Greetings, and relax over the short break. Please review.**


	10. The Math Was Wrong

**Disclaimer:see chapter one**

**AN: Whee! I fixed up the glitches on the computer, and now it runs like a dream. It took me a while, but I did it! Hopefully this will make typing and updating easier. :)**

Chapter Ten- The Math Was Wrong

John held onto Gordon's hand, preventing him from running to the climbing frames. Not that Gordon felt like climbing today. Normally, Gordon would be fighting tooth and nail to clamber like a monkey. Just not today.

"Johnny, where's Virgil?"

"I don't know, Gord. I don't know." John looked at his watch. "He should be here. His school finished ages ago."

Gordon looked up at his brother. "What if he's already left school?"

"Don't be silly. Virgil wouldn't do that." John dismissed the idea, as though it was ludicrous. "He knows how worried we'd get if he didn't turn up."

Alan scampered to the phone as soon as it started to ring. "Hello?"

There was a pause, where Alan fiddled with the coiled cord.

"What? Oh, OK." He covered the mouthpiece. "Grandma, it's for you!"

Josie ran to the phone, curious. "Hello?"

"Yes, I am."

Another pause. Josie could feel her lips pursing tighter and tighter. She imagined she looked like she was sucking on extra sour lemons.

"I see. Well, it's no good to apologize now, is it?"

There was yet another pause, only broken when Josie cut in. "No, I think you've done enough, don't you? Now, if you don't mind, I need to keep the phone line free in case he calls. Goodbye."

"Who was that, Grandma?" Scott asked, leaning casually in the doorway.

"It was the school. Apparently Virgil took off in the middle of his maths lesson, and he hasn't returned."

Scott cursed under his breath, ignoring the second murder glare his grnadmother sent him. "John and Gordon are still waiting for him. Call them and let them know that they should come home. He's got my cell, so you can contact him." Scott grabbed his wallet, keys and spare motorbike helmet off the table near the front door. "I'm going to look for him." He marched over to the coat stand and pulled Virgil's jacket off the hook. "Just in case he's cold."

"You're not looking for him on your bike, are you?" Josie asked, aghast. "Take the Ute, Scott. It's more practical."

Scott shook his head. "I'm taking the bike. It's rush hour right now. I'll be stuck in gridlock if I take the Ute. I can weave in and out of traffic on the bike, possibly find him faster."

"How will I be able to contact you?" Josie asked frantically. "John has your phone."

"I'll be back in an hour and a half. Two at the most. Promise. If I haven't found him by then, I'll come home, get my cell and then go look for him again. Let's see," he murmured to himself. "My helmet's on the bike. Spare helmet in hand. Extra coat in hand. My safety gear's in the storage box on the bike. I am good to go."

* * *

"What are the readouts?" Jeff scrunched himself up into a ball, trying to conserve his body heat.

"Temperature's dropping." Jack's teeth chattered involuntarily. His skin had turned a pale shade of blue. "CO2 levels are rising."

"Orbita, this is Houston. How are things up there?"

"OK, I guess."

"We'd like you to check the oxygen and carbon dioxide readouts, please."

Jeff's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"I can't tell you why, Jeff. Just orders from the top."

Jeff snarled. He wasn't happy about being kept in dark. "Jack's already checked. CO2 levels are rising. We're running out of power as well."

There was an ominous silence.

* * *

Virgil sat at the café table, trying to look inconspicuous. He didn't want to draw attention to himself just yet. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a collage-age waitress hovering around his table. Just to get rid of the hanger on who was peering over his shoulder at his empty sketch page, Virgil ordered another hot chocolate. As soon as she left, he rummaged around in the bottom of his bag, pulled out his artists pencils, and began to draw.

"Looks... powerful." The waitress commented at Virgil's sketch as she set down his mug of chocolate.

Virgil glanced up at her, and nodded in thanks.

"You should enter that into the state art competition. I'm sure it would win."

"Yeah, maybe I will." However, deep down, Virgil knew he couldn't do that. Not with any of his artworks, and especially not this piece. They were too private, too personal.

After taking a sip of his steaming mug of hot chocolate, Virgil applied the finishing touches to his drawing, smudging and sharpening the lines. He laid the sketchpad on the table, and a solitary tear leaked out of the corner of his eye.

Virgil sniffed as he wiped away his sorrow. Looking up from the table was a drawing of Jeff, standing tall and proud in front of his chariot, Orbita 13.

* * *

"If I was Virgil, where would I be?" Scott asked out loud, as he filled his bike up with gas. "Definitely not the art or music stores. Going there would make him happy. The mall would be too crowded for his liking." Scott groaned, and screwed the fuel cap back into place. He walked towards the store, ready to pay for the gas, when a bunch of colourful flowers caught his eye. 'Have to get some for...'

His train of thought broke off, an idea suddenly hitting him. It seemed unlikely that Virgil would be there, but it was worth a shot. He grabbed the closest bunch of flowers, paid for them, stored the flowers in the small box, pulled on his helmet and roared out of the gas station.

* * *

Jack scrambled around, trying to find a particular scrunched up piece of paper. "Something is wrong. CO2 levels should not be rising. Not if the math was right."

"And was it?" Nick asked, almost too sharply.

"Just give me a minute! I have to find the fricking piece of working out, don't I?" Jack snapped.

"Gentlemen," Jeff warned. "I thought we'd agreed on not doing this. Honestly, you two are worse than my sons."

A slow, horror-filled realisation hit Jack as he studied his working out. "The math was wrong. I got it wrong."

"What did you do?" Jeff asked tentatively, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"I worked out the oxygen for two people." Jack looked to Jeff first, and then to Nick. "Only for two. Not for three."

"Yeah, well, maybe I should just hold my breath." Nick muttered.

* * *

Gene cleared his throat for the strategic review meeting with his data controllers. "We've managed to find a solution to get our boys all the way back to Earth safely. Well done." He drew a straight line through the hyphen sized dashes on the board. A huge cheer ran through the room. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We've still got a problem. Their CO2 levels are rising and they are dangerously high, and they are running out of power from the main supply and the emergency pack. They've requested to power down all computers on board the LLC, but you advised against doing so. The only ones they turned off were teh heating panels. Now, we need to find a way of giving them enough power to last the trip. I think this means we need to shut down the computers, bar the vital ones."

"That's impossible! They'd only have 13 amps to run their computers! That's just the bare minimum system components! The coffee machine in the corner takes up more power than 13 amps!" A technician called out.

"Well, it's a good thing we're not trying to bring a coffee machine back to Earth, isn't it." Gene rubbed a weary hand over his face. "Bring Ben in. He can work the case from the ground."

"Ben has chicken pox."

"I don't care if Thinely has the German measles, or is suffering from pneumonia! I don't give a damn if he's covered in purple spots and green fur! Get him here!" Gene exploded. "Ben wanted to be involved in this. Here's his chance. Get him in here, STAT!"

"Yes sir!"

"Now," Gene continued. "About the rising CO2 levels. We need to assume that the CO2 filter has been damaged, or is not functioning to the best of it's ability. Unless they got the math wrong. Either way, we need a fix, and we need it fast."

The flight surgeon cleared his throat. "It is imperative that we find a solution soon. If we don't, our boys will suffer from blackouts, confusion, disorientation and brain asphyxiation."

The symptoms set an even grimmer and darker mood on the meeting. "Thank you Doc. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, but I will let you know when the meeting is dissolved."

"I'll hold you to it." Gene turned to the technicians. "You know what you gotta do. Go do it. Don't come back until you've found a solution."

* * *

Scott approached the headstone with the flowers bunched in his hand. "I thought I'd find you here."

Virgil turned around in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Scott placed the flowers, a dozen carnations next to the headstone and sat next to Virgil, pulling him in for a hug. "You're freezing. What have you been doing?"

"Stuff."

"You've had everyone worried about you. Grandma was frantic when I left."

A shameful feeling of guilt prickled down Virgil's spine. "I'm sorry. She has enough to worry about right now. I just, I needed to find myself. Does that make sense? I needed someone to talk to. I needed someone to listen."

"Come on, let's get you home. I have a spare helmet and your jacket in the storage box."

"You know, Dad wouldn't..."

"What Dad doesn't know won't hurt him." Scot interrupted. "Are you coming?"

"How can you be so flippant?!" Virgil exploded, rounding on his brother. "Does it mean nothing to you? Are you not affected by the deaths on Orbita? Are you even human? Capable of human emotions? Grief? Anger? Sorrow? How can you shrug off his death, like it was nothing?!" Tears were now flowing freely from Virgil, and he made no move to wipe them away.

Scott stood there, blinking at the verbal onslaught Virgil was throwing at him. It took a few moments for his brain to catch up. "Virg, Dad and the others are OK. They're still alive. You need to watch the TV sometime."

"They are?" Virgil echoed, his tears drying up instantly, as he dared to believe.

"Would I, of all people, lie to you, Virg?" Scott asked rhetorically. "Exactly. Now, we need to get back, otherwise Grandma will skin me alive for being late."

Virgil nodded, and turned back to the headstone. "Thanks for listening, Mom."

"Se you later, Mom." Scott gave the headstone one last look, before steering Virgil away to his bike.

* * *

Jeff shook his muggy head, trying to disperse the fog that had formed inside it. He dragged his body towards the emergency compartment, and pulled out the box. "Houston," he slurred breathlessly. "I have the box. Please tell me you've found a solution."

**AN: please review.**


	11. Medical Mutiny

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**AN: I feel really bad right now because I've been neglecting this story for a while now. Anyway, I finally got this chapter typed up, so I hope you enjoy it.**

Chapter Eleven- Medical Mutiny

"We have found a solution to the CO2 issue, Orbita." Houston confirmed. "We'd like you to dismantle the spare G-Diffuser and remove the filter fan."

"Remove filter fan, roger that, Houston." Jeff's numb fingers closed around the screwdriver in the emergency box, and he disassembled the G-Diffuser. He handed the remnants of the G-Diffuser to Jack. "What next?"

"Strip the wiring coating from the spare circuit boards."

Nick grabbed the pliers, and clumsily pulled the coating off the wires. "Um, Houston, what happens if we need these circuit boards?"

"They'll still work. The coating is just for your protection. Attach the coating to the carbon filter."

"Wiring is attached, Houston."

"OK, Nick, we need you to go back into the Command Module and dismantle the carbon filter. You'll need the screwdriver and torch."

"OK, but it will take a few moments to open the airlock between the LLC and the CM."

"That's fine. Just don't take too long. Jack, Jeff, we need you to prepare another piece of equipment. You need the spare plastic moon specimen bags and the duck tape."

"Got them. What do we do?"

"Hold the bag vertically. You need to rip the bag in a straight line along the seams on opposite sides."

Jack muttered a curse as his shaking hands ripped the bag in an arc. "I need another bag, Jeff."

Jeff handed the last bag to Jack, noticing his trembling hands. "You OK to do this?"

"I'm fine." Jack dismissed. "The cold's getting to me, that's all." Luckily, he successfully managed to rip the bag in a straight line. "Houston, I've ripped the bag."

Nick hoisted himself back through the tunnel, as though he was made of lead, and sealed the airlock. "I've got the carbon filter."

"Excellent. Now, thread the wiring into one open end of the bag and seal with the tape. Then do the same with the carbon filter."

With a satisfying rip, Jeff wound the tape over the joint, again and again until he was happy with the seal. "Scissors. I need scissors to cut the tape."

Nick rummaged frantically in the box. "We have none. The scissors aren't in the box."

"Alright." Jeff gritted his teeth, trying to keep his temper in check and racking his fogged up brain for a solution.

Jack pushed Jeff aside and tore into the tape like a lion would tear into a piece of raw flesh. He bit through the tape, and stuck it down on the bag. "Let's do the filter and turn it on."

Once Jack had fixed the bag to the filter, Jeff turned it on. "Let's hope this works."

* * *

Scott's blue eyes blinked in the dark. There was no point in trying to get some sleep; he had too many emotions running through him which he had to work out of his system.

Ever so quietly, so he wouldn't wake John, Scott got dressed, grabbed his keys and helmet off the desk and crept silently out of the room, down to the shed.

He winced as his bike choked into life, and glanced apprehensively at the house. Thankfully, the house was silent, and Scott rode off, letting the inky blackness swallow him up.

* * *

"Good, you're not dead yet."

Ben was woken as something sharp poked him in the eye. He blinked rapidly, and shifted the lump of clothes that had been thrown and landed on his head.

"Come on! Get dressed, grab your keys and let's go!"

"Go where?" Ben shook his jeans and wriggled into them.

Tony, the back-up pilot who had been told to pick Ben up, stared incredulously at him. "The simulator base. Where else would we go?"

"Why are we going there? More importantly, why am I going there? I'm supposedly sick with chicken pox."

"Have you seen the news casts recently?" Tony asked rhetorically. "Orbita's in trouble and NASA need your help. Jeff, Jack and Nick, they need your help."

* * *

Gene pulled the flight surgeon to one side. "You wanted to tell me something."

"Yes. None of the men onboard Orbita are getting much sleep-"

"Could you sleep if you were up there?"

"They are dehydrated," the flight surgeon continued as though Gene hadn't spoken. "Their kidneys aren't functioning to optimum performance and Jack has spiked a fever."

"Well, they have to ration their water, so the dehydration can't be helped."

Just then, a call came in. "Houston, this is Orbita. Come in Houston."

Gene lunged for his microphone set. "Go ahead, Orbita."

"CO2 levels are returning back to normal. Have you got anything else for us? Stokes wants to know if you have re-entry procedures, because the Earth is getting bigger and bigger every time we look out the windows."

"We haven't quite got them yet, but someone is working very hard on them. The doc wants you to get some more sleep-"

"Yeah, like that's going to happen any time soon." Jack replied sarcastically.

"Gene!" The flight surgeon cried out. "I've just lost readings for Commander Tracy."

"Uh, Jeff, we appear to be having a bit of technical difficulty. We've just lost your readings from your Medi-Tags."

"That's because I'm not wearing them." Jeff answered smoothly. "I'm fed up with the entire Western World knowing how my kidneys are functioning, when we don't even know how we'll make it back! Gene, listen to me. Give us the procedures in three hours, whatever they are, and we'll practice them until it's time to come in. I don't want any more surprises on this trip."

"Alright Jeff. I'll get them to you as soon as we get them. And just so you know, this is hard on all of us." He lowered the microphone away from his mouth.

"Gene," there was a tug at Gene's shirt sleeve. "I've just lost all three now!"

Gene chortled. "Relax, Doc. Just a bit of medical mutiny on their part. I'm sure they're fine. Let's cut them some slack, OK?"

* * *

"Ben, you've exceeded thirteen amps."

Ben cursed. "By how much?"

"Four or five amps."

"Dammit Sid!" Ben snapped. "Is it four, or is it five? Give me a definite answer to work with!"

Sid sighed. "It's five. We're over by five amps."

"Just by five amps?" Ben clarified.

"Five amps."

"Let me think, let me think. There has to be a way around this." Ben pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead, as though that would encourage him to think faster. "They're still attached to the CM, right?"

Sid nodded.

"We could re-route some battery power from the CM to the LLC. Theoretically, there should be enough energy to power the vital computers for the re-entry, right?"

Sid nodded again.

"OK, this is our best bet, let's give it a shot."

* * *

"I told you not to go up there!" Scott muttered bitterly, as he stood on the highest rock in the national park, looking up to the moon. "I told you not to go up there, yet you still went! Now look at what's happened!"

He wiped his eyes, and sniffed, blaming it on the wind and the chill factor of the night, not because he had been crying.

"Do you know how this is affecting us? Do you know Grandma has to take prescribed pills just to get some sleep? Do you know Alan has nightmares now? Do you know it takes us up to a whole night just to calm him down? Do you know how much Gordy's swimming has deteriorated because he's worried about you? Do you know Virgil's been spending more and more time holed up in his room, with his head buried in his sketch pad? Do you know that John's packed up his telescope, and stopped looking at the stars? And do you want to know how I feel about this? Do you?" Scott paused, even though Jeff wasn't there to hear this. "I feel helpless. And I hate it. And do you know why I feel like this? Because no matter how hard I try, I can't make things right. Because I'm not you."

There was another silence, as though Scott's admittance was poisoning the air. "I'm not you, and I never will be."

Breathing heavily, Scott turned around and headed out of the park, determined to reach his home before his grandma found out he snuck out.

* * *

"Jack, you need to take some Panadol." Jeff held out two tablets like a peace offering.

"I'm not taking them. My judgement will become impaired if I take them."

"Your judgement is already impaired. You've spiked a fever, and your kidneys aren't functioning."

"Your kidneys aren't functioning but I don't see you popping pills." Jack retorted, shivering.

"Mine are functioning a damn lot better than yours are. Try the Panadol." Jeff wheedled.

"Nope. Not doing."

"Take the pain meds! That's an order! Do I have to put them in your mouth myself?" Jeff threatened, pressing the tablets into Jack's hand.

"Jeez, you're a bully." Jack tipped his head back, and swallowed the tablets with difficulty. "Bleach! Yuk!"

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Do you really want an answer?"

"Jack, Nick," Jeff began. "What are your intentions?"

They both stared at Jeff.

"I'd like to go home."

"Wouldn't we all, Jeff, wouldn't we all." Nick answered, just as he activated a link to accept the incoming call from Houston.

"Orbita, this is Houston."

"Yes Houston, we are reading you loud and clear." Jeff responded calmly, cracking a smile for the first time since this nightmare began. "Hey Ben, any flowers blooming in Houston yet?"

"No Jeff, that's a negative. I do not the chicken pox."

Jeff chuckled. "Good to know. Have you got the re-entry procedures?"

"Yes. Yes I have."

* * *

After looking left, right and left again at the intersection, Scott put his bike into gear and turned onto the main street. He didn't notice the car speeding behind him, edging closer and closer, until it rammed into the back of his bike, and speeding off again, leaving a still Scott sprawled on the ground.

**AN: Just when one problem is solved, another one crops up. Anyway, please review.**


	12. Things Can Only Get Better

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**AN: Bit of an early Chrissy prezzie for you. Hope you enjoy, and if I don't update again before the 24****th****, have a great Chrissy and New Year.**

Chapter Twelve- Things Can Only Get Better

Groaning, Scott moved his head slightly. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, since he didn't know if his spine was injured, but he couldn't stay still.

'OK,' he thought to himself. 'I can feel my legs, and my arms. Well, I can feel a bit of pain in one of my arms. It must be safe to move. I can't lie on the road, waiting for someone to come. I have to move; there's no other option.'

Ever so gingerly, Scott dragged himself into a sitting position, ignoring the sharp pain that shot up his arm like red-hot knives. With his other arm, he removed his helmet, and rubbed his hand over his head, wincing a bit as he reached his temple. 'Should get that checked out by a doctor later today.'

With a super-human effort, Scott somehow managed to heave his bike back onto two wheels, and lug it back to the farm.

* * *

"OK, Ben, fire away."

"Jeff, you need to strap Jack into his chair, and then go back into the CM to re-route five amps to the LLC."

"Copy that."

"Nick," Ben continued, as soon as Jeff had left the LLC. "I need you to restart the Guidance Chip, the Altitude, Speed and Gravitational Force Modulator and the safety computers."

Nick looked at the instrument panel in front of him. "Um, Ben, there's an awful lot of condensation up here, and we stripped most of the wiring off the components to fix our oxygen problem. What's the deal if everything shorts?"

Ben hesitated. "Um, I'm not sure, Nick. We'll just see how it works. Houston out."

Nick sighed and narrowed his eyes. "This is like driving a toasting toaster through a drizzling car wash."

* * *

"Where've you been?"

Scott froze, and spun around on the spot, blinking to rid himself of a dizzy sensation.

"I know you weren't here for most of the night. Where were you?"

"How do you know I wasn't here for the night?" Scott retorted aggressively, although most of his aggression came from the pain around his shoulder.

"Please, give me some credit for my intelligence; I'm fifteen, I'm not an idiot. First of all, we share a room, and as quiet as you were, you still woke me up when you closed the door. Secondly, when Grandma asked me to wake you up, I called your name and you didn't respond. Then, I proceeded onto shaking you awake. You can imagine the surprise I got when my hand sunk into soft and squishy stuff. So, because I'm intelligent, I pull back your covers and find a pile of pillows piled in a heap. I've been covering for you ever since. Where've you been?"

"I went to The Rock." Scott closed the door, and pulled a clean T-shirt out from a drawer.

"In the middle of the night?! Why did you go there?!" John inquired incredulously.

"On a whim." Scott replied sourly, grimacing as he shrugged out of the T-shirt he was wearing.

"Bloody hell, Scott!" John exclaimed as he saw Scott's shoulder. "What've you done to your shoulder? You look like you've gone to war and returned as a veteran. Have you seen the size of the swelling on that?"

"It's nothing." Scott dismissed. "It's just a bruise. It'll be fine." He made his way to the door, only to find John barring it with his body.

"How did you do that?"

"I… fell." Scott said, hating himself for telling a partial truth. "I took a corner too sharply, and then I fell. Now, will you let me go down? I need to make an appearance to Grandma so she knows I'm back."

"You mean up." John corrected, as he followed Scott down the stairs.

"Whatever." Scott sauntered into the kitchen, picked up a slice of bread and peeled off the crust. "Morning, Grandma."

"Good morning, sweetie. You're up late. Did you have a good night?"

Scott stood there, with a piece of bread hanging limply in his hand. 'She can't know,' Scott thought desperately. 'She can't. I'm so dead if she figures it out.'

"Scott? Did you have a good night's sleep?"

Scott jerked his mind back into reality. "Yes. Well, no better than normal, I guess." Guiltily, he crossed his fingers behind his back. "Hey Grandma, I'm not going to be here for dinner."

"Why?" Josie looked up from where she was chopping onions to place in Gordon's sandwich.

"I've got a ice hockey friendly at lunch and practice after school. Coach wants to start our practice season early."

"OK. Do you know when training will be over? I can pick you up from the ice rink."

"Don't worry; I'll walk home." Leaning over the workbench to grab all five lunch bags, Scott hollered, "Guys, come on. We gotta go, otherwise we'll miss the bus."

* * *

"How are the computer systems holding up, Nick?"

"They're fine for now. Haven't shorted yet."

"That's good. One less thing to worry about. Has Jeff come back yet?" Ben asked.

"Yeah, he back. Just checking Jack's strapped in OK. Don't want him flying out of the windshield as we re-enter."

"Good. Now, I need you to disconnect from the CM. You don't need it. It's literally a dead weight hanging off you."

"Ben, before I disconnect, the re-entry procedures; did you calculate the weight correctly? Because the waste disposal tanks and one oxygen tank are empty."

There was no answer.

* * *

"Scott, you ready to go?" Tom leaned casually on the locker door, skates knotted together at the laces and slung over his shoulder.

"Yeah, give me a minute." Scott groaned. Under his breath, he added, "the floor needs to stop spinning."

"Scott, you OK?" Jack had joined them, and stood on Scott's other side.

"I'm fine." He said, trying not only to convince his friends, but also himself. "Why wouldn't I be OK?"

"I dunno. You just seem… out of it. You're not using your shoulder very much, and you've been quiet, I guess."

"I have a bit of a headache, and I bruised my shoulder. No big deal." Scott closed the door of his locker, indicating that the subject was also closed to discussion.

* * *

"Houston? Houston!" Nick called, in a frenzied panic. "Houston, are you receiving?"

"Nick, calm down." Ban was back. "There is a slight issue with the weight, but hopefully we can remedy the situation. Have you disconnected from the CM yet?"  
"No. That's a negative."

"OK, I need you and Jeff to go back into the CM and find anything that can act as weights."

"Houston, I can't go." Jeff interjected. "Jack's taken a turn for the worse."

"What's happened to Jack?" Both Ben and the flight surgeon strained their ears to see what Jeff would say next.

"He's slipped into a delirium, he swings from being a human heater to being a human Popsicle. I need to stay and monitor him, keep him in touch with reality."

"Good thinking Jeff. OK, Nick, make sure they can be secured easily and they can be stowed away." Ben instructed. "Like Jack, we don't want them flying through the windshield as you re-enter."

* * *

Like the rest of his team, Scott hung onto the wall, as they listened to their coach. "OK, this is the first match we've had in a while. It's a friendly match, but it's still a match, so no slacking. I want every team member to pull their weight, and play at their very best. I want you to work as a team to ensure success. Most importantly, I want it to be a clean game. From all of you." She eyed each team member beadily, daring them to disagree. "I know there have been some altercations between certain members of the opposition, but I do not want to see any of you sitting in the penalty box because of something completely unrelated to hockey. Do you understand?"

"Yes Coach."

"Just remember, if you can't beat them in an alleyway, you ain't going to be able to beat them on the ice. Usual warm up, twice around the rink."

Scott pushed away from the wall, ignoring the pounding sensation in his head, ignoring the constant pins and needles shooting up his arm, ignoring the sight of the ice spinning beneath his skate.

"Scott," Tom called out, sounding muffled because of the mouth guard. "You coming or what?"

"Yeah, I'm coming." Scott replied, before his legs crumpled from underneath him and the world turned black.

* * *

"Houston, we are separating from the Command Module now. We will try and stream some live footage down to you. Failing that, we will record the footage from up here, and send you some stills." Jeff informed, while inserting a blank disc into the camera.

"Roger that, Orbita."

"Separating now." Nick flicked some switches and tapped away at his data panel. "Houston, we have separated from the Command Module. It looks… bad."

"Bad as in?" Ben prompted.

"Bad as in the heat absorber has been blown off." Jeff said while filming. "Houston, what are the chances that that has happened to the LLC? And what happens on re-entry if the heat absorber has been damaged? Will the LLC be able to withstand the friction and not melt into a pile of soup metallica?"

* * *

Light.

A bright, white light.

That was the first thing Scott saw. Then he noticed the shapes. A hockey stick. A helmet. Shin guards, elbow guards and shoulder guards. All of this seemed strangely familiar to Scott, but he couldn't quite remember why. And then it came back to him; the ice rink and the match.

"Did we win?" He asked softly, startling all members of the team.

"Err, not exactly." Tom supplied.

"Did we," Scott swallowed. "Lose?"

Jack mulled over his answer. "In a manner of speaking."

"Did we…" Scott trailed of into silence, knowing he was right. "You did, didn't you."

"We forfeited the match. You honestly didn't think we'd let you play after that, did you?" Coach confirmed. The look on Scott's face told her everything she needed to know. "More to the point, why were you willing to play with a broken collar bone? Do you know what could have happened if there was a pile up on the ice and you were at the bottom of the heap? Why were you going to play?"

Scott looked his coach evenly in the eyes. "No slacking."

"Your family have been informed. John and Virgil are already here, but they're waiting for the others to arrive." Coach sniffed, miffed at Scott's reply. "The doctors had to take some CT scans and x-rays of your head as well. You had a nasty knock on the ice."

"OK."

"They're waiting on the results. It should tell us if there's any swelling or internal bleeding." Coach paused. "Do you want to see John and Virgil?"

"Please."

"OK, we'll send them in. And Scott, I don't think you'll be playing for the next three months."

"It only takes eight weeks to heal a bone." Scott argued.

"I said," Coach snarled, as she shepherded the team out the door. "Three months."

Scott was only given a moment before John and Virgil sprinted into the room.

"Just a bruise, huh Scott?" John asked rhetorically.

"OK, maybe I was wrong about that."

"I think it's more than just a bruise Scott. Tell me, are you feeling fine right now?"

"Apart from feeling lopsided, and having a headache the size of North America and Russia combined, and the constant feeling of being on teacup rides at the fairground, I'm good."

"That's not funny, Scott." John growled; his over-protective instinct kicked in, radiating anger at Scott.

"I never intended it to be funny." Scott closed his eyes, hoping to block out the light and the anger.

"Hey, Scott, was it a clean break? Or was it a multiple fracture? Have you had a nerve and tissue damage check yet?" Virgil asked, while scrambling over to Scott's shoulder to take a closer look.

Scott clumsily tossed him his medical chart.

"Let me see, clean break, no damage to surrounding tissue or nerve or blood vessels. What about your head?"

"What about my head?" Scott asked, as a doctor entered his room, holding several scans.

"It's not good news." The doctor responded, thinking Scott's question was directed at him. "The scans show that you have a hairline fracture in your skull. This is supported by the headache and explains the unequal size of your pupils. You were lucky, this is a simple fracture, meaning it should heal in eight weeks without complications. I am a little perplexed, though."

"Why?"

"According to your coach, when you fell on the ice, you fell on the back of your skull. The fracture is in the vicinity of the temporal lobe. It just doesn't make sense. These types of fractures are most consistent with head injuries from an automobile accident."

John glared daggers at Scott, while Virgil narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Now we have that out of the way, you will need to wear a sling and a figure of eight bandage on that shoulder. You cannot play any contact sports until full mobility has returned, and then you must take it slowly. With the head injury you cannot play contact sports nor do anything to aggravate the fracture. If your headache worsens, or you lose consciousness again, you must return back to the ER for observations. Other than that, I'm happy to discharge you." Scans in hand, the doctor walked back out of the room.

"You fell off your bike." John repeated Scott's words.

"I'll say yes on a mere technicality."

"Would you care to tell us what really happened?"

"OK, I'll be straight with you guys. I was coming back from The Rock, and this car rammed into the back of me. The bike lost balance, and sort of fell to the ground, so yes, on a mere technicality, I did fall off my bike."

"Did you file a report?" John asked, while sitting on the end of his brother's bed.

Scott shook his head, and John rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

"I didn't get a number plate, I didn't get a make and model; I don't even know what colour it was!" Scott exploded. "How the hell am I meant to file a report if I don't know the basic facts?!"

"I don't know!" John flared back.

"Exactly!"

"Um, Scott," Virgil said timidly. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did." Scott pointed out.

"OK, well, I'll ask you another thing." Virgil paused. "Did you know you were hurt?"

Knowing he was going to regret this, Scott nodded.

"And one more thing, were you ever going to get checked out to see if anything was wrong?"

Scott nodded once more.

"When?"

"After the afternoon hockey practice." Scott admitted.

John slapped a hand to his forehead, and Virgil pounded a fist on Scott's table.

"Why didn't you get it done first thing in the morning?" Virgil asked forcefully, trying to remain calm.

"I had school in the morning."

"You know you have to have head injuries checked out straight away! Why didn't you?! Dammit Scott! You could've slipped into a coma or worse! For a guy who's on his way to gaining a scholarship at one of the most prestigious universities in America, you sure are stupid."

"Alright, alright, I get it!" Scott interrupted. "It was a stupid thing to do, and I was being an idiot! And I won't do it again. Guys, you do know we can't tell Grandma."

"Tell me what, boys?"

* * *

"Orbita, we do not think that the heat absorber has been damaged in any way. There is no evidence to suggest that it will not absorb the heat." Ben reassured them, wanting to say the good news before the bad. "We are more concerned about the parachute deployment. We suspect there may be some damage done to parachute number two, since it was closest to the tank that exploded." Ben was tapped on the shoulder. "Um gentlemen, I'll be right back." He placed his headset on the back of a vacant chair, and walked over to Gene. "What is it?"

"We've had a phone call, requesting that we pass on a message to Jeff about one of his sons. It's not good." Gene looked down at the message, scrawled on a Post-It note.

Ben peered over the note, trying to decipher the message. "Gene, you have to tell Jeff."

"What if this compromises his judgement, and he makes a bad call? It wouldn't just be him affected, two other men would be affected too; do I need to remind you that one is in a critical state?!"

"Gene, you don't understand! This is what will make Jeff determined to make it back to Earth! The one thing Jeff cares most about in life is his sons!" Ben looked Gene straight in the eye, appealing to his compassionate side. "He's their father. He has a right to know this. He has a right to know this now."

Gene caved. "Go tell him. Let him down gently. Try and make it as brief and as painless as possible. He still has to bring them back to Earth."

"Thank you." Ben walked back to his headset, wondering how to phase this. "Orbita, this is Houston. Do you copy?"

"Houston, we copy." Nick replied. "What can you tell us about the parachute issue?"

"Um, it should be OK with the three other parachutes. Is Jeff there?"

"Yes Ben, I'm here."

"Are you sitting down?"

"Yes." Jeff answered slowly.

"Oh, Jeff, I'm sorry to have to tell you this."

"Tell me what?" Jeff's tone was as sharp as razors.

"It's about one of your sons. I'm afraid there's been some bad news."

**AN: I'm not entirely sure of which sport Scott played when he was at school, so for the purpose of this story, let's just say it ****was**** ice hockey, 'kay? ;)**

**Anyway, please review.**


	13. It's Good To Be Back

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**AN: Sorry I'm late with this update. **_**Very, very, **_**late, according to my beta. Time just slipped away, and I guess going to see the fireworks sort of cut down on my typing time. As did cricket. And other things.**

**So, chapter thirteen, the focus number in all this, and probably the last chapter. Better make it a good chapter then. Before I forget, there are minor time jumps, by a few days, in this chapter.**

Chapter Thirteen- It's Good To Be Back

"What about my son?" Jeff's nerves were on edge. He didn't think he could take more bad news. He had an inkling on which son was hurt, and it wasn't a good feeling.

"He has a broken collarbone and a hairline fracture in his skull." Ben swallowed, knowing how guilty Jeff was feeling.

"Was it a clean break? He won't need surgery to re-align the bone, will he? And what about his brain? The bone hasn't speared it. There's no swelling, is there? When did he find out?" The questions came thick and fast. Jeff might have been commander of Orbita 13, and one of the most respected astronauts NASA had, but at that moment, he was like any other father; worried as hell over his son.

"His hockey coach took him to the hospital after he collapsed on the ice."

'Scott, not Gordon.' Jeff thought to himself, but he wasn't sure whether he was comforted or more panicked by that revelation.

"Jeff, I'm really sorry. I wish I could have spared you that. I wish it had been better news."

"I'm glad you told me, Ben." Jeff replied, steely determination evident in his voice. "Because now, one of my sons needs me. No power on Earth can stop me from coming back."

* * *

Alan clambered on his mountain of a brother until he could rest his head on Scott's uninjured shoulder. "Scotty, what happened to you?"

"You know my bike? You know how I let you sit on it without giving you the keys otherwise you'll run me over?"

Alan nodded, his blond curls bouncing up and down, framing his face.

"Well, someone ran me over."

Tears pooled in Alan's eyes. "Why would someone do that to you?"

"For kicks."

Alan chewed his lip, trying to figure out how a car could kick someone and run them over at the same time.

"For a laugh." Scott clarified, seeing a flash of puzzlement cross Alan's face. "Because it's supposedly fun to hurt people deliberately."

"Scotty, what does," Alan paused, sounding out the next word. "De-lib-arr-etly mean?"

"On purpose, planned out, with a motive," Scott explained, but was interrupted before he could launch into the whole thesaurus.

Gordon had cuddled up next to Scott on the sofa. "Scott, when's Dad coming back?"

"I don't know. Probably tomorrow. If everything goes to plan."

"I miss him." Gordon stated simply.

"We all do." Scott tried to move his slung arm, but couldn't.

"Coach says he might have to take me off the swim team." Gordon muttered miserably. "I used to swim so good when Dad was there at practice. Now he isn't, it's like I can't focus or concentrate. My mind's wandering to irrelevant things."

"He'll be there for your next race." Scott reassured his little brother. "I'll make sure of it. He knows how much swimming means to you."

"I know he knows." Gordon mumbled, shifting slightly so Scott could stand up, carrying a slightly dozy Alan. "It's just; everything would be back to normal if he was here."

"Of course they would be normal. That's what Dad does; he regulates normality." Scott replied, voice heavy as lead. "I'm gonna get Alan upstairs, before he falls completely asleep. You'll be OK down here?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Gordon called to Scott's back. "But I'll be even better once Dad comes home."

* * *

"Orbita, this is Houston. Come in Orbita."

"We copy you, Houston."

"We've just had a call from the President herself. She's wishing you luck and Godspeed on your re-entry. Jeff, she's also letting you know not to worry about the tax return. This time, you are most definitely out of the country."

"To be honest, Gene, tax is the last thing on my mind right now." Jeff worried his furrowed brow, and clenched his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering. "How's the weather?"

"It's a balmy eighty degrees in the South Pacific." Ben replied. "The actual weather doesn't look too great. We are expecting a tropical storm at the estimated time of splashdown. Our only saving graces are the predicted strong winds that will blow the storm away."

"Judging by our luck, I doubt that's going to happen." Jeff muttered, bitter as a shot of coffee.

"Jeff, you and the others have made it this far. Don't give up hope just yet."

"I never said I was giving up." Jeff retorted. "Things could go a hell of a lot better, that's all."

"Yeah, they could." Ben agreed. "Listen, do whatever last minute things you need to do. I'll be back in an hour to run Nick through the re-entry procedure one last time."

* * *

Josie sat at her solid oak table, fiddling with her hands. She looked up when someone placed a steaming mug in front of her. "What are you doing up so late? You have school tomorrow. And no, I'm not letting you bunk off because you have a fractured skull. That was your own fault. And hiding it from me! Me, of all people!"

"Couldn't sleep. So I came down for a cup of joe. I made one for you as well; you looked like you could use one. And Grandma, I never asked you to let me skip school. And I wasn't hiding it from you; I just didn't freely volunteer the information."

Josie grasped the mug, feeling the heat seep through her skin, and dropped the subject. "NASA called. They're expecting splashdown in about two hours. After that, it'll take them a day to steam back here, and then they spend two weeks in isolation."

"Excellent. We can see him on the weekend, then."

"Scott, you can't go marching down to NASA's quarantined area. There are procedures and restrictions in place." Josie explained patiently.

"To be honest, I really don't give a sh-" Scott caught himself just in time, and swallowed the swear word that threatened to pass from his lips. "Stuff about NASA and their rules anymore. They've screwed around with us for long enough now. They've thrown enough lives into disarray."

Josie sighed wearily, realising Scott wasn't going to give up. Since he couldn't drive down there, she knew he would catch a train or bus or even walk until he saw Jeff. "Pack a bag for everyone. I'll call NASA and see if they'll allow us a quick visit."

Scott gave her a grateful one armed hug. "You're the best, you know that, Grandma."

* * *

"Nick, how's the temperature holding up?"

"It's rising, Houston. Going to get real hot in here. We think there's been some minor damage to the heat absorber, regardless of what you say."

Ben leaned over a data panel, and scanned the design and numbers whizzing by on the screen. "The heat absorber's going to be stripped away by the friction."

"What? That means we'll be charred to a crisp, barbecued to a bone by the time we reach Earth!"

"No, you won't." Ben countered. "You should be entering Earth's atmosphere in about an hour, and we believe that the heat absorber will be able to withstand the heat for that amount of time."

"And if it doesn't?" Nick couldn't quite keep the open hostility and anger out of his voice.

"Then... we're screwed. But that's the worst case scenario."

"Thanks. I feel so much better." Nick deadpanned.

"Is there anything we can do once you splashdown?" Ben asked, ignoring Nick's last comment.

"Yes." Jeff stated adamantly. "I want to see my family. I don't care about protocol or procedure. The moment I am in that quarantined tank, I want to see my sons."

* * *

Still unable to sleep, Scott sat down heavily on the squashy couch and turned on the TV. Out of force of habit, he tuned in straight to the news channel. 'There you go. My one news cast for the day.'

Even though he wasn't really paying attention to the TV, Scott kept one ear tuned into the blurb of the reporter's drone, and listened to his surroundings intently with his other ear.

"And in other news, Orbita 13 has made a safe splashdown in the South Pacific, just off the coast of Hawaii." Scott's head whipped back and he gave the screen his undivided attention. "The capsule was retrieved from the ocean in the early hours of the morning, and the astronauts inside the capsule are expected to arrive back in the States by tomorrow. So far, there have been no reported injuries, and the astronauts are just 'mighty relieved to be back dirtside.' NASA have not yet found out the cause of the malfunction on Orbita, but say they are going to commence on a thorough investigation as soon as possible. We'll keep you updated with regular bulletins as we gather information."

Ecstatic with delight, Scott scampered up the stairs, not realising how much noise he was making. He ran into his room, pulled out a backpack, and haphazardly threw some clothes inside the biggest pocket.

"Scott, what are you doing?" John slurred, stirring from his sleep and rubbing his bleary intense blue eyes.

"Get up and pack a bag, Johnny boy. This afternoon, after school, we're going to Texas."

* * *

For the first time in days, Jeff felt fully relaxed. "Has a NASA representative called our families yet?"

"Yes, they've been informed of your safe retrieval," one of the sailors onboard the retrieval ship pressed a steaming mug of coffee into Jeff's hands. "Don't worry too much. As per your request, we've been able to bend the rules so that you can see your family as soon as we get you into the quarantined tank. NASA has arranged a flight out for all the families."

"When will we be reaching the mainland?"

"In about an hour. You'll arrive in Houston sometime tomorrow, as crossing the country will take most of the night."

* * *

Scott held a squirming Alan in his lap as they waited at NASA's headquarters.

"Scotty, let go! I want to see Daddy!" Alan wriggled round some more, trying to break free of Scott's grip.

"Stay still Alan. You can't see Dad until NASA let us in." Scott moved slightly in his seat. "How're you feeling John?"

"Queasy." John was a pale shade of green. "The turbulence on that flight did no favours for my stomach." John felt his stomach lurch. "Scott, I think I'm about to spew."

Scott dumped Alan on Gordon before steering John off to the bathroom.

"Scott, what am I meant to do with him? He's worming around." Gordon cried out in shock of having to hold his little brother.

"Hold him." Scott called back, hurriedly swinging a door open for John. "He's not going to bite you, Gordon. If you don't want him, pass him to Virgil; no-one would blame you."

"Gordy, when do we get to see Daddy?" Alan looked imploringly at his brother.

"We see him when we see him." Gordon replied. "Grandma, when do we get to see Dad?"

"Soon sweetie, soon." Josie stroked her grandson's hair. "I know how badly you want to see him. I want to see him too."

* * *

Jeff could feel his ears pop as the tank he was in was pressurised. Relentlessly, he paced up and down in his tank. When would he finally get to see his family? It had been a long time since he had seen them. Far too long.

"Daddy!" A tiny figure squealed, and ran up to the glass of the tank.

Jeff crouched down, and splayed his hand against the glass. "Hey, how's my baby boy?"

Alan placed his hand against his dad's hand, and giggled at his antics.

"I hope you've been good for Grandma."

"Of course, Daddy." Alan smiled. "Scotty was the bad one."

"Oh really?" Jeff raised an eyebrow, and winked at his son. "I can't wait to hear this one."

"Yeah, Scott was so stupid. He had to be admitted right at the worst time. We were pulled from school just to see him in hospital." Gordon whined. "I had to get out of the pool in the middle of my swimming lesson!"

"What a tragedy." Jeff teased his second youngest son by yawning and rolling his eyes.

"It is! It is!" Gordon crossed his arms, and stomped his foot, a sure sign that a tantrum was coming on.

"Hey, hey, Gordon, don't get so worked up. I was just teasing you."

"Yep, payback for all your pranks." Virgil supplied. "Though Gordo's, sorry, Gordy's," Virgil corrected himself, noticing the killer look Gordon shot him. "Right about one thing. Scott really was an imbecile not to get those injuries checked out." He turned to John. "Why did you tell him the meaning of his name?"

"Cos I couldn't keep a straight face when I said it." John replied, swallowing a snigger.

"Is this the Spanish thing?" Jeff couldn't quite keep the smile off his face.

"Hole in one, Dad. See any new stars up there?"

"Wasn't much time for star gazing, John."

"Yeah, I guess not."

"So, Scott, want to tell me the tale behind that injury of yours?"

"Injuries, Dad. It's a plural; I have two broken bones."

"Terribly sorry. But you still haven't answered my question."

Scott looked nervously at his brothers and Grandma. "Can we do this later?"

"No. I want to know now."

"I went for a midnight spin while you were gone," Scott began uncertainly.

"Yes, I figured as much. Continue."

"And some asshole, oops sorry, ran me over." Scott gulped, awaiting Jeff's reaction to his swearing slip of the tongue.

"As soon as I get out of here, I'm washing your mouth out with soap." Jeff promised. "Swearing is not necessary. I don't like it."

"Then," John picked up the tale. "The idiot walks home, dragging his bike with him. I see his shoulder which is swollen and red and not in good condition. He tells me it's a bruise, not to worry, and takes us off to school. At lunchtime, he has a hockey match. Like a fool, he decides to play even though he's hurt. He collapses on the ice, and is taken to hospital."

"So, we rush to the hospital, and enter his room." Virgil continued. "John growls at Scott and they have a big argument while I prod and poke at his shoulder, trying to assess how bad his collarbone broke. Then the doctor comes in, and tells us he's fractured his left temporal lobe. Once the doctor leaves, John figuratively beats the true story out of him. I then ask him if he knew he was hurt. Scott nods. Then I ask him if he was actually going to get his head and shoulder checked out. He nods again. I ask when. He says after the afternoon practice. Then, John and I both rip into him about his stupidity."

"I enter the room with Gordon and Alan just as Scott instructs them not to tell me," Jeff looked up and saw the smiling face of his mother, her flyaway static hair tamed into a ponytail. "We all go home once Scott is discharged, and I persuade-"

"Persuade is not the word I would use." Scott supplied.

"I persuade Scott to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth." Josie continued, as though there was no interruption. "After expressing my concern mingled with displeasure, I send him off to bed so he could get some rest. As soon as he was gone, I called NASA with strict instructions to inform you of his injuries."

"This is exactly what happened, Scott?" Jeff asked, making sure he had his facts straight before proceeding.

"Yes sir." Scott sighed resignedly.

"In that case, I see no other option but to ground you for your reckless behaviour."

"What?!" Scott yelped, outraged. "Isn't this punishment," he gestured to his arm in a sling and his head, "enough?"

"Not for me. For sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night, I'm grounding you for two weeks. For hiding your injuries, I'm adding another week onto that. For trying to keep this from your grandmother, I'm giving you a month. And I'm adding a week on for swearing."

"Dad, this is bull! You can't do this!"

"I think you'll find I can. I am your father. That equates to head tyrant, dictator, supreme ruler of your life. And be thankful it's only two months. I could have made it a lot worse."

"Two months?!"

"I can always make it three, Scott." Jeff threatened.

With another sigh, Scott complied. "Two months is fine."

Once doling out the grounding was out of the way, Jeff morphed straight back into his worried father mode. "You don't need corrective surgery, do you, son? And there's no swelling or build up of pressure in your brain, is there?"

"No, and no. Both bones will heal in eight weeks, and everything should be back to normal."

"Good. You had me worried up in space." Jeff yawned, and stretched out on the bed provided in his tank.

"Boys, it's time to go. Dad needs to rest now." Josie guided her herd towards the door. "We'll come see Dad tomorrow."

* * *

"Kids, I'm home!" Jeff placed his bag down by the door. "Dad's home! He's finished his two week stint in isolation!"

Five pairs of feet thundered through the hallway, and Jeff found himself squeezed tightly round his middle. "Hey, hey, boys, ease up. I'm not a toothpaste tube." He picked up his youngest son, and swung him onto his shoulder. "Did you miss me?"

Alan shook his head, with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You didn't?" Jeff shook his head, and blew a raspberry on Alan's belly. "I can't have that!"

"Daddy, stop it! It tickles!" Alan squiggled around on Jeff's shoulder.

"Did you hear that, boys? He wants me to stop. Should I?"

"No!"

"Sorry, Alan, you heard the voices speak." Jeff mercilessly tickled Alan until hysterical laughter bounced off the wall, causing Josie to run in, brandishing a rolling pin as though it were a deadly weapon.

"Jefferson Tracy! You stop that at once! You'll make him sick!"

Jeff spun around and soberly placed Alan on the ground. "Aw, Mom, we were just playing."

"Don't you 'aw, mom' me! Alan's just eaten his dinner and needs at least half an hour for the food to settle in his stomach."

Jeff sniffed the air. "Smells good," he approved, hoping to get back into her good graces.

"Yes well, sit down. I'll bring you something." Josie stood still for a moment, before enveloping her son in a hug. "Son, it's good to have you home."

"It's good to be back." Jeff smiled back at his mother. "You heard your grandma, back to the dining room boys."

Five boys squeezed past Jeff, racing each other to the room.

"Ah, you can never keep them away from food, can you?" Jeff mused, as he walked sedately to the dining room.

"Hey Dad, did you find out what went wrong?" Gordon asked through a mouthful of mashed peas.

The silence round the table was ominous. No-one knew whether they wanted to hear the answer. Sometimes it was better to let sleeping dogs lie.

"It's alright to ask questions, boys. It's only natural that you're curious." Jeff stopped, a sudden thought striking him. "Were you afraid of how I'd react to that?"

The silence told Jeff everything he needed to know.

"Am I that much of an ogre?"

The corner of Scott's mouth quirked up. "Oh, what an opening."

"Just remember, Dad," John added. "You said it, not us."

Jeff ignored the jibes his two eldest sons shot at him. "Well, Gordon, in answer to your question, NASA has found what caused the malfunction. There was spark that stopped the oxygen valve from functioning."

"Dare I ask," Josie began. "But what was the valve number?"

"Oxygen valve number thirteen."

"Daddy," Alan looked up at his dad. "Will you be going away again?"

"No Alan. I'm not going away. Now I'm back, I'm here to stay. For good."

**AN: That's it. That's the end of the story. Hope you liked it. Please review. **


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